Gray Hearts for Mr Grey
by AuroraGreyheart
Summary: Grey Plaza, a new skyscraper and the new home of GEH has taken shape as an impressive new addition to Seattle's skyline. As the company moves in, events cause Christian Grey's past to re-emerge and he is forced to make a painful sacrifice. But salvation comes to him from a very unlikely place.
1. Chapter 1

**GRAY HEARTS FOR MR GREY**

****You can see some representative images of my story over at Pinterest.  
****Go to the site and look for TheRachelJLewis/gray-hearts-for-mr-grey/**

_**Thank you to E L James for creating the characters and the world in which all of us play for fun. I own nothing and I take nothing other than inspiration.**_

**Note - and it's important that you read this.**

_This story is set several years after my last piece, 'The Devil's Kitchen.' Please read the series before you start with this one. I recommend the reading order as Light and Shade / Scarlet and Grey / Walking Away / The Devil's Kitchen. It's important that you have an understanding of my context before you read Gray Hearts._

_The world that I have created for Christian Grey involves him changing and maturing to take into account, that not only has he had over ten years of unconditional love from his wife, Anastasia, but he's now a father. It is my belief that those experiences will have changed him. Also, because of his perfectionist nature, I believe he will also be working to overcome what he sees in himself as a weakness - his inability to develop properly functioning relationships with people - especially women._

_I write about Christian's former subs and I treat them with respect. If that isn't something you like to read about in a story, then perhaps it's best if you don't read my work._

**On reviews...**

_Say what you want. You won't be deleted. Guest or logger-in. _

_Rachel x_

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**CHAPTER ONE**

**Friday Night**

Exiting one by one through the revolving door, the group of brunette-haired women left the smart restaurant on Fourth Street, walking off down the sidewalk in small groups. Two of them hung back, waiting for Susannah, who came out tucking a credit card receipt into her wallet.

"How much did that come to?" Janey asked.

"Enough," Susannah slid her wallet back into her purse.

"And he's picking up the bill for the entire weekend?"

"He always does. Is there a problem?"

"No, he can afford it," said Janey with a smile.

"Then why be concerned at what it cost?"

"Because, I still get a thrill that he does it."

"He pays for us all to get together once a year, Janey. He's hardly bank rolling our lives."

"He's bankrolling yours, Susie."

"I work for him, that's different."

"Working for Christian Grey," Janey sighed as they started to follow the rest of the group. "You know we all envy you."

"I wouldn't, it's hard work. GEH is a huge multinational company. And working for him brings its own difficulties."

"Like what?" asked Heather, sliding in beside Susie.

"In some of the more boring meetings, my head has occasionally taken to… reminiscing, shall we say," Susannah smiled and the two other women chuckled.

"Oh, we all do that," said Heather, tucking her arm through Susie's.

"Yes, but you don't find yourself doing it in front of him and having to pass it off as fantasizing about your husband, when you're really thinking about your boss. I try not to do it, but sometimes, from nowhere, my head picks out a really…"

"Juicy bit?" said Janey.

"Yes, and we all know how juicy he could be!" said Susie, giving a sudden carefree laugh and then quickly checking herself.

"Addict," levelled Heather.

"Well, duh… She and me both – and you – and them," Janey pointed to the rest of the group further down the street. "That's why we're here. For the seventh annual Red Audi Owners' Club Weekend. I'm wearing my badge of honour." Janey pulled at the Hematite heart pendant that hung around her neck. They hung around every group member's neck. A small reminder of the bond that they shared. A gray heart for Mr Grey.

Heather looked up to the newly-completed skyscraper ahead of them. "Grey Plaza. Look at it," she shook her head in disbelief. "Wow." The three of them looked upwards. "Where's your office, Susie?"

"One from the top. Legal has the entire floor."

Janey gave a low whistle. "When do you move in?"

"From Monday. The desks and furniture are already in and they're moving people across section by section. The top three floors, which is all the senior staff, go in at the end of the week."

"Is he sad to be leaving Grey House?" asked Heather.

"I don't know. He's not said anything about it if he is."

"I walk past it every day on my way to work," she added.

"It's going to have its name changed to Eagle House when we move. Eagle Pacific Holdings are taking it over."

"That's sad." Heather scooped her hair behind her ear. "It will always be Grey House to me, even though I've never been in. Are you excited about the new offices?"

"Mostly, yes. It gives us more room for expansion, which comes with its own headaches. To be honest, if I'd have known how big GEH would get after he took over Venture Senkang, I probably wouldn't have said yes to joining him. It's truly insane. When he wants IT support, he calls Bill Gates personally." Susie gave a disbelieving laugh.

"I saw him and Ana pictured with Bill and Melinda not long ago," said Heather. "But Mr Grey is still the man we all knew, yes?"

Susie shook her head. "He's not that man at all. I wish you could meet him, sometime. He's changed so much. Even smiles and cracks jokes now – which is disconcerting. I guess that's what being happily married with a family does to you."

Janey raised an eyebrow. "And you, fresh back from your honeymoon with... interesting jewellery." Janey reached up and touched the dark metal choker around Susie's neck. "He can't fail to know what this is. Has he mentioned it?"

"Christian? No. I haven't seen him since Scott put it on." There was a tremor in Susie's voice and Janey and Heather exchanged a look. There was a frisson of unease which Heather sought quickly to dispel.

"Any chance of a sneak peek?" She asked.

"At my office?"

"And at his office?" said Heather, quietly. There were various lights on in the new building as the teams worked around the clock to get Grey Plaza ready for its new occupants. Susie looked down to the main door. The lights were on in entrance.

"Go on," Janey urged. "It's nearly midnight. You're just showing your friends around. You are the company's Chief Legal Advisor, after all."

Susie stopped on the sidewalk.

"Girls!" called Janey and immediately the rest of the group came back. "We're going to get a private tour of Grey Plaza," she whispered when they were all in ear shot. There was a murmur of excitement as the group made their way to the nearest crosswalk, slunk past the gleaming front door and into the staff parking garage.

**xxXXxx**

Christian Grey stood in the doorway and shook his head in amused resignation at the tousle-haired form that had burrowed her way into their bed. He walked towards her, angling his head to the side to look at his three year old daughter. She was fast asleep on Ana's side of the bed. He'd anticipated that he'd come up to find her here. She wasn't good at sleeping and if either Mommy or Daddy were away she never lost any time in occupying the vacant space in their bed. "Darcey," he called softly. "Time to go back to your own bed."

She didn't respond, she was fast asleep. Christian pulled back the quilt and lifted the warm, sleeping child into his arms, noticing her long lashes and soft rosebud lips that she'd inherited from Ana. He took her through to her bedroom, settled her into her own bed and placed a kiss on her forehead. Darcey's bedroom floor was scattered with the debris of play. She'd got everything out and was incapable of putting anything away. He smiled and left it. If he put it away it would only be out again by the time he got up tomorrow. He checked on their other children. Ted was days away from his tenth birthday. He was a very practical little soul, for whom academia held no interest. He didn't see the point of schoolwork, unless it could help him to make things that could sail faster or fly further. In contrast, six year old Phoebe was a future CEO, of that he had no doubt. She was studious, serious and extremely self-controlled. While she had lots of time for her older brother, who could amuse himself for hours with a construction set, Phoebe did not know how to handle her giggly mess-pot of a younger sister in the next bedroom. There were times when Christian had caught Phoebe staring baffled at Darcey, as she sang and danced and tra-la-laad around the house. Life for Phoebe did not happen as a song a dance routine, it came from books. Finally, there was William. Phoebe had more time for him. He was one year old and not quite mobile. Christian straightened his baby son's blankets, suddenly feeling acutely tired. In a couple of years he would be forty and working into the small hours wasn't as easy as it used to be. But like Darcey, he didn't settle easily when his wife wasn't at home and so it was easier to keep himself busy with work. Ana being away brought back memories of times he'd rather forget.

As he changed and got into bed, his phone suddenly flashed a message from Ana. She'd forgotten an important file. Could someone get it from her office tomorrow, scan it and send it over to her in Sydney? She finished it with Happy Anniversary and a wink. Anniversary? It wasn't July, it was May. May 11th. Of course. The day his life had changed forever. He smiled. At this hour she probably wasn't expecting him to be awake and would have expected him to pick up the message in the morning, but if she was awake then he wanted to speak to her. He called her.

Suffering from the twin agonies of being sleepless and aroused from talking to his wife, Christian decided to do something useful and get the file for her. Drawing the curious glances from his new night security personnel, he drove into Seattle alone, waving away the offer for Kennedy to drive him. Kennedy was Taylor's replacement. It was early days and Christian was still learning to trust the man. Taylor was still around, but stayed back at the house. He'd nursed his wife Gail through breast cancer last year and had decided not to resume his position, but take it as a cue to stay home more.

In the bright moonlight, he could clearly see Grey Plaza in its new place in the skyline, and beyond it, the smaller, more compact form of Grey House. He would have a pang of sadness on leaving it, but the benefits of having Ana working in the same building and not having to trek across town to see her, far outweighed any negatives. Besides, Grey House was too small and GEH was expanding.

The midnight streets of the city were quiet and he reached Ana's building quickly. He was escorted up by security and let into Grey Publishing's offices. They too were packing and just like at GEH, their working lives were rapidly being reduced to coded crates and boxes. Christian had a key to Ana's office and let himself in, switched on the lights and her computer and sat at her desk. He found the file quickly and put it out to take home. She would be back on Wednesday and had scheduled to call in at her office first because she was arriving back in the middle of the day. Christian, however, had other ideas. She may indeed come to her office, but she would be seeing him. Selecting her calendar on her computer, Christian booked himself an hour's appointment with his wife under a false name and left some notes purporting to be from her PA, Hannah, about the exciting manuscript from a new talented author. He took a memory stick from his pocket and uploaded a file to her computer. She'd see it in her Dropbox in Sydney, so she'd have time to read it before she met this Blake Tyne on Wednesday. It was Christian's own work, he'd written it in secret and he knew that he'd get comments from her over the next few days once she read it. She always told him if she got excited by something or wholly depressed by it. He was taking a chance, but he wanted to hear what she thought of it before she knew it was him.

He shut down her computer, closed up her office and taking the file, left the building and climbed back into his car. As he wound his way through the streets, he saw the lights go on in his new office in Grey Plaza and figures appear at the window.

"What the fuck?" he muttered. Putting his foot down he raced to the new building.

He parked right outside and strode across the sidewalk to the glass-fronted entrance which failed to open. The security guard seated behind the desk did not at first see him, although he did when Christian banged on the glass. The grossly overweight man hauled himself off the chair and lumbered his way to the door. He took his time walking, finding his keys and unlocking the door, all the time garnering Christian's increasing irritation. Finally, it opened.

"About fucking time! There's someone in my office," said Christian, attempting to get through the door and finding his way blocked by the human equivalent of the Great Wall of China.

"And you are?"

"Christian Grey," he enunciated, clipping his words so that the unobservant security guard might better feel their sharpness. He didn't.

"And what floor would that be on?"

"The thirtieth."

"We'll check it out, sir."

"No, you won't, I will," said Christian pushing forward and finding himself firmly pushed back.

"If you want to come in, sir, I'm gonna need to see some ID."

"You are joking me. Have you no idea who I am?"

"You said your name is Christian Grey."

"And this building is called?" Christian could almost see the cogs in the man's brain clunking.

"Oh…" he said and stepped aside to let Christian through. "My apologies sir," he called as Christian strode off to the elevators, having more important things on his mind. He threw himself into an elevator and hit the button for the thirtieth floor.

In Christian's vast new office, Ola Marjec, his ninth sub, spun around in his chair, the plastic covering still on it. Eloise and Nikki were seated on the plastic-covered sofa, while Erin was checking out the adjoining bathroom.

"Oh my," she exclaimed loudly. "Look at the size of his shower! Is he going to be having parties in here?" The exclamation brought the rest of her friends to check it out. One by one they stepped into the shower, laughingly amazed that all fifteen of them could stand in it without a squeeze.

"Let me get my phone. I've got to get a picture of this," said Susie, running out of the bathroom and straight into Christian Grey. They stood in silence staring at one another, while from the bathroom came shrieks and hilarity from the rest of the group. There was a coldness that Susannah had not experienced from him in a long time as he stared, not at her, but at the jewellery around her neck. He took a step towards her.

"I have not had the opportunity to welcome you back from your honeymoon, Mrs McDowell." His voice was soft but dangerous. "I confess that I was not anticipating your marriage to be so marked." He reached up and flicked the tiny lock on the choker. "This is unexpected." Susannah swallowed, keeping her eyes fixed on his shoes. Even if no one else in this building knew the significance of her jewellery, her boss did and she knew that it was something that he and her husband did not see eye to eye on. "When did it go on?"

"After the ceremony."

"And are you happy about it?"

Susannah nodded.

"Look at me," he said with practiced authority and Susannah instantly complied. "Are you _happy_ with it?" She could not hide from him, he knew her too well. She gave a small shake of her head.

"No."

"Allow me?" She nodded. "Lift your chin," he said softly and came closer, picking up the tiny lock and looking at the base of it. His proximity to her in a way he had not been in many years was erotic, but not in any way acknowledged by her or reciprocated by him. He let go and stepped back to give her space.

"Come on Susie!" shouted Leila, breaking the intimate spell. "Use mine if you can't find your phone."

"And it would appear that a crowd of people are in my bathroom."

"Christian would explode if he saw us in here," said Paula, laughing.

Susannah saw the twitch in his cheek. He stepped past her and walked into the bathroom.

"I can assure you, that I wouldn't." He clasped his hands behind his back. "I may, however, get security to throw you out."

As one the women fell silent and for a moment there was much eyeball confusion as the compulsion to look at their long-held desire in the flesh fought with their training to avert their gaze from him. Susannah followed him into the bathroom.

"I am so sorry, for the intrusion," she said, sincerely. "We'll leave immediately."

There was a voice out in his office. "Mr Grey?" It was the security guard.

"In here," said Christian. The large man almost filled the bathroom with his presence, turning to stare at the women in the shower cubicle. "The Police are on their way."

"That really isn't necessary," Christian snapped. "They hardly need subduing."

"I'm unaware of how these women got into the building, sir."

"Mrs McDowell?" Christian turned to her.

"Through the staff parking garage. I have a pass."

"You work here, ma'am."

"Yes. I'm the Chief Legal Advisor."

The guard turned to Christian. "Is that true?"

"Yes."

"And these women, ma'am?"

"Are my friends."

"May I remind you that…"

"Yes, OK, enough!" said Christian, tetchily. "You can call off the Police, I'll handle this."

"Do you need any assistance sir?"

"No." Christian glared at the security guard and his irritation with him finally penetrated the guard's brain.

"Very well, sir, I'll return to the desk."

"Good," Christian said and watched the man waddle his way out of the bathroom.

The women had not moved and as Christian returned to look at them as one their eyes looked away from his face.

"Go and sit on the sofas," he said.

The transition from the chaos in the bathroom to their arrangement on the sofas could not have been more marked. Each woman sat precisely how Christian had asked her to sit, long ago. Startlingly, the women had sat in number order, from Faye on his left to Susannah who took her place on his right. He found it extremely disconcerting that there was something going on here that he was not in control of. He stood before them looking at each in turn. Faye Silvestri he had seen before. His first sub had been the catalyst for bringing this group together; managed in the background by Ana herself. As long as Ana knew where they were then his wife rested more easily. What she'd say about this, he'd be very interested to hear. He moved on to Carly Thomas, his second sub. It had been very clear early on that Carly and he would not work. He had still been inexperienced and his handling of certain situations had not been good. Bronwen North had been a better experience, but had chosen to leave him after three months. Jessica Collins, a Doctor had been his first sub to agree to two renewals and the only one who had found someone else. It had been his contract with Heather Durrant, his fifth sub where he had finally felt in control and confident about what he was doing. Along with the brunette hair and their similar figures, he noticed another identical thing about them. Each was wearing a heart-shaped hematite pendant, even Susannah. It sat below that hideous collar that Scott McDowell had locked around his wife's throat. It may be jewellery, but the sight of it made him press his lips into a narrow line. After Heather there had been Janey, followed by Eloise, Nikki, Ola and Stacey. Joanna had been another longer-term relationship and then there was Leila; the infamous Leila, who had caused him more grief than all of them put together. After Leila there had been Paula and Erin before Susannah, his last sub, the sub who had stayed with him the longest time and whose relationship with him had transcended into genuine friendship. After Susannah, he had tried to put in place number sixteen, when he met Ana Steele. In her, he'd rapidly found himself adrift in the dangerous and unpredictable waters of deep love.

The women sat in silence and Christian found it unsettling, unpleasant, even. He had become used to Ana's free-flowing conversation. This was… alien. He wanted some sort of discourse. He looked at the polished Hematite hearts around each of their necks.

"Nice jewellery," he said.

"We wear them for you," said Leila. "Gray hearts for Mr Grey."

He saw the flash of anger from Susannah that Leila should have disclosed this.

"I hope you enjoyed your guided tour of Grey Plaza, although as you can see, you're not exactly seeing it at its best."

"We've only seen Susie's office and this one," said Erin.

"And my bathroom." A small smile ran around the group. "You didn't get your photo," he added.

"No," said Leila with a certain jut of her chin that was issuing a challenge. He wanted to say something, but he didn't know what to say or how to start to rehabilitate these relationships. It was Nikki who came to his rescue.

"Would you take it, Mr Grey…sir, so we could all be in it?"

"Sure."

The dash back to the oversized shower cubicle was accompanied by a low twitter of disbelieving giggles. Susannah handed him her phone as she stepped into the shower. Christian Grey looked at them. "You look ridiculous!" He laughed and it broke every barrier.

"I feel ridiculous, now just get on with it!" said Ola to a chorus of gasps, but her outburst just made him laugh all the more. He took a series of photos before the women piled out of the shower and clustered around him to look at them. Janey took the phone from him.

"Selfie!" she called and held it out to take a picture of them all. The result had all of them staring at the photograph in amazement. Christian Grey with all his subs and he was smiling. Mostly because he couldn't work out exactly how tonight had happened. But it felt good, it felt like a pressure had eased and when the women left, there was a handshake and a polite farewell to each. To Susannah there was a request that she come to his office at Grey House first thing on Monday morning. There was more to say on the issue of her collar.

He closed the door to his new office and looked out across the vast empty room to the Seattle skyline beyond, thinking over what had transpired. It was approaching two in the morning, but he had never felt in less need of sleep. He felt like a septic part of his past had been lanced and cleaned out. He walked to the window and far below saw the women walking down the sidewalk to their hotel. He knew where they were staying, because he would be picking up the bill. Before, it had always felt like an obligation, but tonight it felt good. He felt at peace but in desperate need of Ana tonight. Christian Grey turned away from the window just a second before a figure broke from the shadows and set off after the women.

v

v

v

**Below is a list of characters, just in case you want to remind yourself who's who at any time.**

* * *

**xXXx**

**CAST OF CHARACTERS**

**The Grey Family + Staff**

Christian Grey

Ana Grey

Teddy Grey (10)

Phoebe Grey (6)

Darcey Grey (3)

William Grey (1)

Jason Taylor / Gail Taylor: Christian's former driver and his wife.

Kennedy: Christian's new driver (replacement for Taylor)

Belinda Prescott – Ana's driver.

Liam McConnell – Boat Maintenance

**Christian's former submissives:**

Faye Silvestri (1) / Carly Thomas (2) / Bronwen North (3) / Jessica Collins, (4) / Heather Durrant (5) / Janey (6) / Eloise (7) / Nikki (8) / Ola Marjec (9) / Stacey (10) / Joanna (11) / Leila Williams (12) / Paula (13) / Erin (14) / Susannah McDowell (15)

**At GEH**

Luke Sawyer – Head of Security

Andrea Sawyer – Christian's Executive Assistant

Emma / Charlie (their children)

Olivia Lucas – Christian's Personal Assistant

Tom Clark – Director of Operations

Melanie Clearwater – Head of PR

Penelope Jarvis – Director of European Operations

Huang Meien – Director of South East Asia Operations

Susannah McDowell – Chief Legal Advisor

Kelly Jones - Susanna's PA

Amos King – Board member

Sherry Billington – Legal team – first recipient of a copy of White Tower at GEH

Eric Kohlenberger – Head of Maintenance.

**Police Department**

Harry Marsh (Lead Detective)

Keeley Fox

Ryan Sparshott

Beth McCready

Kendall Fox (Keeley's father)

Zack – Police Photographer

**At Grey Publishing**

Hannah Martin – Ana's PA

Blake Tyne - nom de plume of Christian Grey

Danielle – Editorial Assistant

Simran – Editorial Assistant

Molly – Editorial Assistant.

**Other characters**

Scott McDowell - Picture Editor on the Seattle Times

Petra Huntley – Acquaintance of Scott McDowell

Sloan Sharp – fellow Mom at Saturday dance classes

Cassidy Sharp (her daughter)

Rob Silvestri – Faye's husband

Lucia Silvestri – Faye's daughter

Roger Carter – Elementary School Principal

Troy West – local Photographer on the Bremerton Journal

Sandrine Courel – Dance school Principal and Dominatrix

David Brannigan – Friend of Christian and Ana's. Boyfriend of Keeley Fox

Kamila Marjec - Sister of Ola Marjec


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

The late night had delayed him getting to his morning workout, so the children were already well into breakfast when Christian strode into the kitchen. Teddy and Phoebe were wrapped in aprons and stood at the stove helping to make pancakes with Gail Taylor, while Darcey was picking around in a bowl of Cheerios. William sat in his high chair waiting patiently for the toast that was cooling on the side. Christian poured himself some coffee.

"Good morning, Mr Grey, would you like some pancakes?" Mrs Taylor helped Teddy to dispense more of the batter onto the hot plate. "We have a little production line going," she smiled.

Christian took a sip of his coffee and walked over. "Yes please, Mrs Taylor."

"How many, daddy?" asked Phoebe. She was already dressed. The rest of the children were still in their pyjamas. Christian peered over his daughter's shoulder as she slowly and carefully flipped a pancake.

"Three, please," he kissed her hair. Phoebe tilted her head back with a grin and he planted another kiss on her forehead. He clapped a hand on Teddy's shoulder as he dispensed another measure of batter onto the hotplate. "Expertly done," he commended, raising a broad smile from his son. Elsewhere in the house a phone rang and was quickly intercepted, probably by Taylor. Christian glanced at the clock. It was just after eight. Ted had to be at soccer practice by nine and Phoebe and Darcey at their dance class for nine thirty. Ana and he usually took turns at taking the children to their activities on Saturday morning and this week it was his turn to take the girls. Taylor would most likely stand in for Ana, whose turn it would have been to stand on the touchline and cheer on Ted. Christian spread the toast with a little butter and cut it up into bits. He sat down next to his baby son and placed it in front of him. Will's eyes lit up and he immediately grabbed the piece that Christian held out to him. He smiled at his son's enthusiasm for food. It faltered when he looked over at Darcey. The other children ate well, but his younger daughter's lack of interest in food unsettled him.

"Darcey, would you like something else?" She would have asked for Cheerios, she always did, and then ate very few.

"Ice cream?"

Christian chuckled. "Not for breakfast, pumpkin. Would you like a pancake?"

She shook her head.

"Some toast?"

She shook her head again.

"We have some bacon," said Gail, trying to make it sound exciting. Darcey thought for a moment and then wrinkled her nose and shook her head again. She dribbled a spoonful of milk back into the cereal bowl.

With Ted and Phoebe sat around the table, Mrs Taylor placed the pancakes in front of Christian and Will became wide-eyed at the prospect of more food. Darcey stared in disgust as Phoebe covered her pancakes with syrup and tucked in. She looked over at her Daddy.

Christian pointed at his plate. "Would you like to share mine?"

This got a response and sliding off her chair Darcey walked around the table and wriggled onto his lap, nibbling on a small piece of plain pancake. Christian wrapped an arm around her waist and pooling his own syrup in the far corner of the plate, dipped his pancakes in as he ate. Will's hopefulness was rewarded with his own piece and Darcey helped herself to more un-syruped pancake. Gail took pity on him.

"Would you like another one, Mr Grey?"

"Yes please," he said, parting with yet more pancake, but glad that Darcey was eating something.

Taylor was hovering by the door, later, as the children left the kitchen. There was a look of concern on his face.

Christian went to pour himself more coffee. "Is something the matter?"

Gail wiped Will's fingers and face.

"Yes," Taylor said with quiet seriousness. "Have you seen the news this morning?"

"No?"

Taylor took a deep breath and instinctively Christian closed the gap between them. "That was Mrs McDowell on the phone," he whispered. "There was…um..." Taylor was uncharacteristically searching for words. Gail joined them.

"What's happened?" she asked, drying her hands on her apron.

Taylor's mouth moved but words didn't immediately come out.

"Jason?" His wife pressed.

"Sir, Faye Silvestri was murdered last night."

There was silence from all of them but finally Christian managed to speak. His reply more of a breath than a word.

"How?"

"She was strangled."

A shout and the slam of a door upstairs failed to move Christian as he absorbed the shocking news.

"At the hotel?"

"Yes. There was some unexplained noise from her room… which… they investigated and um… well… Dr Collins did what she could, but…" he shook his head. "She couldn't revive her. The women are with the Police now, giving statements." He paused for a moment. "And…"

"So will I," finished Christian, acknowledging the inevitable.

"Yes. They will need to fully account for her movements last night. Mrs McDowell told me that you… ran into them."

Christian exhaled. "Yes, I did." He left his second cup of coffee untouched. "You'd better set it up." Christian stared unseeing at a place on the floor.

"Yes, sir."

"I'll call Ana," Christian added.

"Would you like me to inform Prescott?"

Christian nodded.

"Daddy!" Came the shout from Darcey, upstairs. "I can't find my shoes!"

"Unsurprising, given the mess in there," muttered Christian. He ran a hand through his hair.

"Take the girls to dance class, as usual," said Gail. "I'll take Teddy and William."

"Thank you."

Gail lifted William out of his chair.

"Would you like me to contact Mrs Silvestri's husband and express your condolences?" asked Taylor.

Christian pursed his lips. "No," he said quietly. "I don't think he knew that we were acquainted."

"The Police are probably going to ask how the other women knew her." Her husband's question produced an understanding look of concern on Gail's face.

Christian gave an uneasy acknowledgement. "I know," he sighed. "Did Susannah say that she'd call back?"

"No, but I'm sure that she will when she has the opportunity."

"Let's hope the Seattle Police know how to be discreet."

"Daddy!" Darcey called again.

"On my way!" he replied and pinched the bridge of his nose. "The Red Audi Owner's Club seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gail touched his arm. "They may have come up with another reason to explain why they'd gotten together. Lots of women meet up for a weekend away. My sister's college friends do it all the time."

Christian smiled as he reached over and grasped Will's hand. He brought it up to his lips and kissed the palm of it. Gail's comment was well-meaning, but it wasn't going to happen. "True, but I met them last night. One of the security guards at Grey Plaza saw them all in my shower and we took a photograph together."

Gail's mouth fell open. "What?"

"Not in the shower," he added quickly. Not that it made a scrap of difference. Christian threw up his hands. He was at a loss. "Again, it seemed like a good idea at the time." He sighed.

Darcey wandered back into the kitchen. She hadn't even started to get dressed, yet and she held out a hair tie to him. "And I can't do my hair."

He scooped her up and turned to Jason. "Do your best to keep a lid on this."

"I will, Mr Grey."

"Thank you. OK, pumpkin," he said mussing up her curls. "Let's go and find your shoes and braid your hair."

The print newspapers had gone to press too late to carry it, but there were ample news reports online. Christian sat in the line of parents at the side of Darcey's dance class flicking through each article. Not that he read them after the first couple. None of them had acquired an image of Faye yet. In front of him, fifteen little girls dressed in identical pink leotards, pink ballet shoes and white crossover wrap cardigans learned today's routine. Their efforts failed to engage him, though, lost as he was in thoughts of murder and what he was going to say to Susannah about the collar. A discreet necklace he could have worked around. Such a thick chain and a padlock screamed what it was and he was uncomfortable with that aspect of her and Scott's relationship being so publicly visible. He had kept his subs unmarked and saw no reason to ever draw attention to them.

"So you drew the short straw for today," a sultry voice broke into his thoughts. Christian turned to see a casually dressed, but immaculate blonde-haired woman beside him. "The weekly torture of dance class," she smiled flashing too many teeth. "Pleased to meet you," she extended her hand. "I'm Cassidy's mom. But you can call me Sloan." He shook her hand. "You're Darcey's dad?"

"Yes," he replied but added nothing further. Something about this woman set him on edge.

"You're Christian Grey, right?"

"Indeed."

"I recognised you," the over-toothed smile gave a brief return.

He merely quirked an eyebrow in response and turned his attention to Darcey who was putting her heart and soul into the dance as she did every week. He'd wound and pinned her braided hair into a bun and wrapped a pink band around it to meet the dance school's exacting requirements about presentation. It was something he found remarkably pleasing.

"Awful news," she said, pointing at the article about Faye Silvestri's death that was displayed on his iPad. He closed the cover.

"Yes," he replied, unwilling to engage in conversation about it.

"I hope they catch her killer."

"So do I," he said, stressing a truth and feeling a pulse of anger spike through him. He would make discreet enquiries to make sure that the investigation was given priority and that everything was done to support her grieving husband and their two children. Their youngest was not even as old as Will.

"As Cassidy and Darcey get on so well, I wanted to invite her over this afternoon?"

Christian had never heard Ana or Darcey herself mention a particular friendship with Cassidy. He declined.

"Thank you, but we already have plans for today."

"Of course," said Sloan, her cheeks turning pink. "Maybe another time?"

"Maybe," said Christian. He may have been married for ten years but he was still well aware of when a woman was hitting on him. He rested his left hand on the case of his iPad, displaying his wedding ring.

"I don't suppose you have a lot of time to do normal things like this?"

Christian turned to give his full attention to her. "On the contrary, my wife and I make our children a priority." He stressed the word 'wife' in an effort to subtly convey the desire that she fuck off. He was in no mood for inane chatter. He glanced at the clock on the wall. There were only five minutes left.

"Some of the girls and I are going for coffee afterward. Would you like to join us?"

"Thank you, but I have to get back." The buzz of his cellphone provided a welcome diversion. He pulled it out and looked at the caller ID. It was Taylor. "Excuse me, I need to take this." Christian walked out of the class and placed the phone to his ear. "Taylor, remind me to give you a raise."

"Thank you sir," said Taylor. "Did I just rescue you from something, or someone?"

"You did. What's up?"

"Nothing in particular. I was just confirming that I have arranged for you to meet with Detective Marsh on Monday afternoon at three. He's coming to Grey House."

"Thank you."

"I've spoken to Prescott. It's just after six in the morning in Sydney, so she'll be ready to brief Mrs Grey when she wakes."

"Thank you." Christian suspected that Ana would cut short her trip when she heard and it wasn't something he would dissuade her from. Ten days without her was far too long. He looked through the window back into the class. Darcey was oblivious to the fact that he'd left, while Sloan was trying and failing to make it look like she wasn't watching him. He turned his back to her. "Keep talking," he said.

"Um… What about?" said Taylor, stumped.

"I don't know, anything," Christian swapped his phone to the other ear. "Tell me all last week's closing positions on the FTSE 100. Just keep me busy."

"Um…OK," Christian heard the sound of Taylor tapping a keyboard. "Yesterday, it closed up 14 points at 7130." Christian smirked. Sometimes Taylor took him very literally.

"What about the Seattle Sounders, how are they doing?" Perhaps he could impress Teddy by actually knowing something about his son's favourite soccer team for once.

"The Sounders? Ah… not so good."

"They lost again?" Teddy would be sad.

"Oh no," reassured Taylor. "They're just looking for a buyer."

"Really?" said Christian, now suddenly very interested. "How come I didn't know about this?"

"Do you usually read the sports pages?"

"Er… no," he admitted. "But I do read the business ones and know Joe Roth and Adrian Hanauer. I'm surprised they haven't mentioned it." Christian thought for a moment. "Call Stephen. Get him to put together some figures." It wouldn't hurt for his business manager to make some enquiries about a purchase.

"OK," said Taylor. "I'm sure Teddy will love that."

Christian smiled broadly. "I'm sure Ana won't."

"True," added Taylor.

Christian thought of something else that Taylor could do for him. "One final thing. Could you get me a key for a small jewellery lock stamped with the number thirty seven?"

As the class came to an end, Christian collected Darcey and headed through to Phoebe's room. While Darcey bounced and leapt beside him, his older daughter looked miserable and it came as no surprise that she voiced it when he opened the car door for her.

"Daddy, can I do something else, please?" She climbed into the back of the car and pulled the seat belt across her.

"Such as?" Christian clipped the belt into place.

"Fencing," she said with total conviction.

"Fencing?" He was equally taken aback and not wild about the idea of his six year old wielding a foil, however well protected she was. Where had she got that idea from? "Who does fencing?"

"Bobby Visconti."

"Sweetheart, he's… thirteen." Their friend's son was more a pal of Ted's than Phoebe's.

"Well, he does fencing and I want to do it too. I don't like dancing." That was patently obvious.

"OK, well, Mommy and I will talk about it when she gets back." On the far side of the back seat, Darcey was already strapped in and holding her arms out, practicing today's arm positions. Both girls were evidently from the same parents but poles apart in their personalities. He smiled and shut the car door. As he opened the driver's side, Sloan waved to him and flashed the smile that made him wonder if her surname was Shark. He raised his car key in acknowledgement. The image of an equally immaculate but unsettling blonde-haired woman brought to mind someone else from long ago. "I really don't like blondes," he murmured with a smile and slid into the car.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

He was expecting his wife home by now, but as yet she hadn't made an appearance. She'd messaged him two hours ago to say that she was still with the Police. Since then, she hadn't replied to three additional text messages and Scott McDowell was rapidly losing patience. He stood by the living room window in the gathering twilight, repeatedly throwing a baseball from his left hand into his right. He checked his watch. It was nearly five o'clock. How long did goddam Police interviews take, for fuck's sake? His train of thought hit the points and skittered off down a different track. Perhaps she wasn't with the Police, perhaps she was with _him?_ The mere thought of the man prompted bile to rise in his throat.

Scott had frequented the Devil's Kitchen for years and he knew Christian Grey was a Dominant. But just as with anyone else involved in the scene, there was an agreement that you kept that knowledge strictly to yourself. Susannah and Scott had been together nearly five years and he'd never asked whether his wife had known Grey in ways other than just a boss. Obviously, she would feel some measure of gratitude to him. After all, it was Grey who'd rescued her from The Devil's Kitchen and saved her life in the rain-soaked parking lot. Later, when her private proclivities were very nearly exposed through her relationship with Mark Grainger and the board at Lane, Neill and O'Driscoll let her go, Grey snapped her up. She was a highly sought-after lawyer, of course Grey would want to employ the best – and he could afford her, too. Scott had never really questioned it, putting things down to happenstance and a general acknowledgement that those in the scene looked out for each other. But now he wasn't so sure. Not after the Christmas gathering.

It had taken everyone aback that Christian and Ana Grey should eschew the usual smart hotel for the senior staff's event and instead hold the party in their own home. Not at the family's mansion in the suburbs, but in the Escala penthouse that prior to meeting his wife, Christian Grey had rattled around in on his own. Perhaps it was because they had already decided to sell it that they were willing to show over one hundred people exactly what $7million would get you in Seattle. A very large slab of fabulous if Scott McDowell was any judge.

He'd arrived late, having been delayed on a photographic assignment for the _Seattle Times_. He couldn't find Susannah, but someone told him that he'd seen her going upstairs with the Greys. He followed and found the three of them sat on sofas in the apartment's own Movie Theater, which was built into a windowless room. The walls were deep red, and so was the oxblood leather seating which faced the wall where the projection screen was mounted. The room had a strange ambience to it. The deep red walls prompted him to think that with a little alteration, this would make a perfect scene space. Why hadn't Grey thought of that?

There had been something about Susannah that night. Everybody else seemed on edge to be in such a bewilderingly elegant space, but not her. She looked relaxed and almost at home. The real clincher was when she knew exactly where to find another wine glass. That was the moment when everything changed for Scott. There was no doubt that his wife been here before and knew her way around Grey's kitchen.

Since then, he'd been paying more attention. He noticed Grey's calls on Susannah's time, was more attentive to anything she said about her past and more aware of Grey's influence on her life, period. The last five months had not yielded anything of substance, but an uneasy feeling persisted, that his wife was holding a portion of herself back from him. There was nothing he could point to as evidence, it was merely a wisp of smoke in the air. It was in the way that she was too keen to check her emails, or too eager to get back to work each Monday. And then there was her odd insistence about this weekend. She had made sure that they were back from their honeymoon in time for her to hook up with this absurd group of women whom she persisted in being friends with. All in all, it had started to add up to one clear thing. She was intentionally distancing herself from him and that was when he knew he had to fight to keep her. His wedding gift to her was a custom-designed lockable collar to which only he had the key.

xxXXxx

Susannah stirred her coffee, turning the darkness to light as she added the milk. The three of them were sat around a table in the first diner that they'd found. It was decked out fifties-style although someone hadn't thought to extend it to the music. Heart were belting out 'Alone.' Diagonally opposite Susannah, Jessica Collins was staring at the scratched, Formica table top. Carly Thomas was holding her hands, trying to reassure the woman who had worked so hard, but had ultimately failed to resuscitate Faye Silvestri. They didn't want Jessica to be alone tonight and so they were waiting for Michael, her boyfriend, to finish his shift at the hospital and stop by to take her home. There was very little conversation, just disbelief at the night they'd had.

It had started so well. A lovely meal followed by the bizarre incident of running into Christian in Grey Plaza. That had been a shot of a drug unlike any other. None of them could sleep as they went their separate ways and eventually they all drifted back into Nikki's room where she passed around the Bourbon.

It had started predictably enough. They'd sipped on the Bourbon and talked about Christian – how could they not talk about Christian. Despite them being unspeakably rude and crashing his personal space, he hadn't lost it with them. Perhaps because the new office was still devoid of his personal possessions. It wasn't really 'his' yet. He hadn't been overly-friendly and he hadn't given the impression that they were all BFFs now. He was polite, interested to know where they were in life and still in possession of the most impeccable set of manners. They understood that they would never have with him what he had with Ana. There would always be an inevitable distance. But the change between the man that they had known and the one sat before them had been unmistakable. Time and the love of a good woman had finally melted the Iceman. They'd toasted Ana Grey for her success, all bar Susannah unaware of the silent role she played as Mistress of their group. She was the one who gave permission for the group to exist. She was the one who knew where they lived, what jobs they did, the partners they had and the comings and goings of their lives. She had once told Susannah that it was like knowing where the spider was in the room. As long as she had her sights on it, it didn't bother her. But the memories of the precious few minutes they'd spent with Christian were was a distant memory now, expunged by the horror that had overtaken them.

It was Heather who had heard a muffled cry from Faye's room next door, a sound that she at first she didn't register. It had pulled her from sleep, but not far enough for her to fully awake, so she'd drifted off again. But something in her head made a connection that the noise was a cry of distress and so she got out of bed and went next door to make sure that everything was alright. It wasn't. The door was wide open and Faye was gagged, bound and with eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling. She was naked below the waist, the rucked up quilt beneath her giving evidence that she had struggled. Heather's screams woke those in other rooms. They came. Jessica did what she could. The medics did what they could, but they could not bring Faye back.

Since then, the night and subsequent day had been a blur. Shock and a lack of sleep had left them numb, unsure how to proceed and out of their depth when it came to where this might lead. They were a bookgroup, they told the Police. An online bookgroup who got together in person once a year. It was the best they could come up with at short notice. They were not blind to the implications for the man they had once called Master, should the Police discover exactly how they were all connected.

The loud squeak of the Diner's door announced Michael's arrival. As he approached their table, Jessica let go and released a fresh stream of tears. She threw herself into his arms, wrapping herself around him as if she'd never let go. With Jessica safely with Michael, Carly drifted away leaving Susannah to finish her coffee. She reached up to the collar, feeling its weight and its presence around her neck. She'd agreed to its placement, but she knew that her acquiescence had been a mistake. Over the last few months Scott had changed. He was harsher, more controlling and the love that they once had in abundance felt as if it was leaking away like a slow puncture. For the first time ever on Thursday night, they'd fought. You could put it down to being tired from a long flight back from Mauritius, but the argument came from nowhere and had centred on nothing. It had left the waters of their new marriage muddied and it was those muddy waters to which she was returning. Up until Heather's screams had woken her, the hours away from Scott had been a precious balm. Perhaps they were foolish to try and combine a Dominant / submissive relationship within a marriage? Susannah knew that becoming Mrs McDowell was not the joy she had thought it would be when Scott had proposed to her in the first few days of the New Year.

xxXXxx

His wife finally pulled onto drive. Scott waited in the hallway as she got her case from the car, walked up to the front door and let herself in. Susannah closed the door, wheeled her case to the side, placed her tote on the floor, took off her coat and hung it up. She moved to a pre-arranged place, hands clasped in front of her and her gaze dropping to focus on the pattern of the grain running lengthways down the hallway. Scott approached. The touch of his hand on the side of her face was her cue to raise her lips to meet his, receiving a kiss that did not come with all the tenderness that she so desperately needed, right now.

"Where have you been?" His voice was soft. You didn't answer my texts."

"We stopped at a diner to wait for Jessica's boyfriend to finish his shift at the hospital and pick her up."

He moved his nose into her hair. It had the faint smell of stale coffee and burgers about it. She was telling the truth. Grey would never descend to a diner. "And this meant you couldn't reply?"

"I am so sorry," she said. "Today hasn't been very easy."

"No," he exhaled, stepping back and looking at her slightly disheveled appearance. Her eyes were pink and she had lost the immaculate gleam of the successful Corporate Lawyer. "We'll save your sanctions for another time."

"Thank you," she replied.

"Clean yourself up," he muttered and walked off into the living room.

Susannah collected her case and tote and climbed the stairs to their bedroom, disappearing into the closet and placing her case onto the luggage rack. She emptied it and stripped off her clothes, placing everything in the laundry basket and wrapping herself in her robe. She took a shower, closing her eyes and imagining Scott standing behind her, massaging shampoo into her hair as he once did. Tears mixed with the water running down her face and Scott's angry face gave way to the soft smiles of Christian. Here, in her head, where nobody could see – least of all Scott - Christian provided an oasis. She wasn't really thinking back to how it used to be, Susannah was imagining what it might be like to be with him now.

Watching him with Ana was a revelation. The way he touched her and more importantly, the way she touched him – an intimacy that was forbidden to all others – told Susannah that there was a bond between them that no one could penetrate. She'd seen other men looking at her in lust, but never Christian. He reserved those looks for when his wife walked in the room. How Ana Grey didn't spontaneously combust from them was amazing. Susannah shook her head free of the image of Christian, realising that dwelling on him was a pointless insanity.

She finished her shower and made for their bedroom where a set of underwear had been laid out on the bed. Scott had been in and selected it. The colour indicated his mood. It was red. Susannah closed her eyes against tears, wishing for the white or the cream that might indicate his willingness to be tender with her. He was angry and tonight would be rough.

Downstairs, Scott read the report on the _Seattle Times_ website about Susannah's friend's death. They'd uploaded a picture of her now. Faye Silvestri was a small, brunette-haired woman of 39 with a delicate elfin-ness about her. She was pictured holding a newborn baby and with a girl of about four or five sat beside her. She was a Third Grade teacher from Bremerton, on the other side of the Puget Sound. Her husband Rob was also a teacher. The authorities were conducting a post-mortem, but the news release had listed signs of strangulation, which suggested that there really wasn't much doubt to how Mrs Silvestri had died. Scott wondered how Susannah know someone over in Bremerton? What other secrets was his wife keeping? She was becoming a clam and clams needed forcing open.

Susannah returned to the living room, clean, fresh and attired in a soft jersey dress.

"Better," he said, rising from his chair. "Would you like a drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Well, I need one and I think you do too." Scott poured her a double vodka, before adding a large measure of tonic to it. He brought it over to her. "Drink," he said.

Susannah sipped it, averting her eyes as Scott took large mouthful of his vodka.

"I think we should cook dinner, together," he said.

She smiled at him and led the way into the kitchen, not making it through the door before his hand gripped the back of her neck and pushed her face flat to the counter. Her glass smashed on the marble floor. A finger slid into her collar and pulled on it.

"Feel this?" he growled. "_I_ put this here, this is my property," he pulled harder and it dug into her neck. "_You_ are my property and every molecule of you will show up to this fucking marriage!" He pushed her forwards, shoving her hips against the counter and forcing her legs apart with his knees. Under his hand he felt all resistance leave her. "Good girl," he purred. He knew she'd stay put now. He forced her legs wider and pushed her dress up around her waist exposing her buttocks. The red lace of her g-string was set against alabaster skin. Something made him check himself. How had their love had turned into this? He took a breath and smoothed her dress down over her behind. Scott took a step back and his shoulders slumped. Grey was not worth this jealousy. He took a couple of steadying breaths. "Susie," he said softly, curling his hand around her waist. She rose slowly and in his hands he gently turned her around. "I am so sorry, my darling." He pulled her to him and held her, hearing the frantic hammering of her heart. Despite her calm exterior, he had really frightened her. He had to master this jealousy or risk it devouring him from the inside.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

They were supposed to be playing the tidy up game, but the only one who was still playing was Christian. Darcey was now marching around her bedroom pretending to lead a parade. He'd decided not to fight it. It was already past her bedtime, he was tired and he really didn't want to end today by yelling at her. As Sundays went, it had been a pretty ordinary one, but about three times longer than a regular Sunday. Ana was on her way home and every remaining minute without her felt like a year. Christian scooped the last of Darcey's toys back into the box and closed the lid. At least you could now see the floor – which was an achievement. Phoebe wouldn't have entertained so much as a speck of dust, let alone the contents of her toybox spread everywhere. Teddy was more compliant about tidying up, but it was always done at lightning speed. He'd always wanted more time to build things. Christian sat back and clasped his hands around his knees, watching as Darcey marched around him.

"Can I wait up 'til Mommy gets home?" She stopped marching and pushed her way onto his lap.

"No, pumpkin." He leant back, giving her room, supporting himself with his hands behind him and wincing slightly as Darcey stuck a knee into part to him that he was hoping to use later. "Her flight doesn't get in for a while, yet and then it's a long drive from the airport. If you stay up, you'll be too tired to see her tomorrow."

"Can she stay home tomorrow?"

"I'll ask her for you."

"Can you stay home tomorrow?"

He shook his head sadly. "I have my European Director flying in. I think she'd be a little angry if she came all that way and I didn't show up."

"She could sleep over and see you another day." Life was very black and white for Darcey Grey. "Can we go for ice cream?"

Christian pursed his lips. "Well, perhaps when Teddy and Phoebe get in from school, we could." He could duck out of his day early, that wouldn't be impossible. "But let's see how Mommy is first, yes? She might be very tired."

"OK,"

Christian sat up, trapping her between his body and his knees. "And now, bedtime!"

Immediately her little brows knit together in a mask of dislike. "Nooo," she grumbled.

"Come on." Sweeping a hand around her, Christian struggled to his feet with her in his grasp. He was glad there wasn't anyone else to witness it as he was sure he had a bad case of uncoordinated giraffe going on. He carried her over to her bed and deposited her in it. Darcey immediately rolled away and snuggled her face into the soft toys that she'd lined up against the far side of the bed. "Goodnight, pumpkin," he said, leaning over and planting a kiss on her forehead. She rolled back, grasping Amelia, her rag doll.

"G'night Daddy," she said in a voice that he was sure would always render him powerless. Oh, what he wouldn't do for his kids.

Christian dimmed her light to a soft glow and tucked her in with Amelia clamped firmly under her arm. He left Darcey to think up scenarios of how she was going to get Mommy to stay home. He didn't think that 'tie her to the bed,' would feature in her plans, but it certainly featured in his. As for going out for ice cream, he'd rather stay in with that… Christian made his way down the long curving staircase, walked into the kitchen and poured himself a large glass of white wine. Now came the hard part of the day: Waiting for Ana.

He went into his study and for something different flicked on the sound system and found a rock music station. If he listened to anything in the evening he usually gravitated towards classical music, but tonight he didn't want that. There was something within that didn't want to be soothed. They were playing Foo Fighters and the lyrics seemed to resonate in his heart. _'It's times like these you learn to live again.'_ He placed the wine on his desk and sank into his chair, leaning back and closing his eyes.

For a moment he imagined himself in Rob Silvestri's shoes, facing life without his wife. If that was Ana… He didn't get far with that scenario before every fibre of him was crying out in anguish. He'd experienced it as a very real prospect once before and he knew that if that were him, he'd shut down and return to something even worse than he'd been before he met her. Knowing what he'd lost would be an agony too great to bear.

He tried to work. He opened documents that he didn't really take in and signed things he hadn't properly read. Until Ana walked through the door and he could hold her in his arms he would have to trust that his number two, Tom Clarke, was doing his job.

With his work for the evening done he opened another document. He'd sent the first book to Ana and now he was starting on the second one. He re-read the last few paragraphs, made a few changes, took a few sips of wine and started to type.

How exactly he'd managed to write a book, he didn't have any idea. On a particularly boring flight to Atlanta he'd found himself thinking 'what if…' and before he knew it he was typing furiously onto his laptop. His periodic insomnia came in very useful as he wrote his way through nights, plane flights and car journeys. It wasn't perfect by any means – he wasn't a writer, he was a businessman – but he thought it had a narrative, even if it wasn't the most perfectly constructed one. He hadn't dared to ask Ana what she thought of it and slipping the manuscript into her 'to be read' folder was hopefully a way of getting some unbiased feedback. He was nervous about it. Nervous that his book would be one of the ones she read of an evening. He had to face the prospect that it might be one where she commented to him that it hadn't been worth her time. But he had until Wednesday to wait for the meeting he'd scheduled under an assumed name and on the vague off chance that she did like it, he was starting on book two.

Writing was effective as a distraction and he didn't notice the silent figure appear as a silhouette in the doorway of his study, sometime later. Christian broke off from writing and rubbed his eyes. He looked at his watch, he'd been sat there for nearly two hours.

"Hi," Ana said softly as she stepped out of the shadows. A large sigh of relief came from him. His life was home. "What are you doing?" She walked over to the desk. "I've never seen you work with such concentration."

"Oh… um," Christian surreptitiously clicked open a spreadsheet to hide his writing. "Nothing special. Just a… report."

"Really?" She looked at him sidelong. She didn't believe him and he smiled at that. "So, if I click on your browsing history, I won't find that you've spent the weekend chatting and swapping intimate photos of yourself with Doris in North Dakota?"

He swung his chair through ninety degrees and held his hand out to the computer. "Click away," he smirked. She walked around the desk, but Christian was not going to let her anywhere near his computer, not until at least one thing had been achieved, preferably two. He reached out a hand to her. "But first," he said as he pulled her to him, "I need to welcome you home."

He slid her skirt upwards and held her hand as she straddled his lap, pulling her towards him and fixing his eyes on the face of the woman he loved with everything he was. Her eyes were still their soft blue, but now they carried the faint marks of life at their corners. His eyes took in the rest of her face as she did the same to him. No words were spoken other than the silent utterances of love. He felt the tender touch of her finger tips under his eyes, moving out across his cheek to stroke the hair at his temples.

"You have a touch of gray, here," she whispered.

He acknowledged it with a bashful smile, fixing his gaze on her lips and seeing them part as their desire began to build. This was the anticipation, holding off just long enough to appreciate what you'd missed, what you wanted and how sweet it would be when you got it. His mouth was almost watering when he finally kissed Ana, pouring six days of missing her into her lips as his hands ran over her body, making sure that all of her had come home to him. She held his face, smoothing back his hair and running her fingernails lightly over his scalp. What was on the computer was quickly forgotten.

"Welcome home Mrs Grey."

"I'm glad that I'm here." She dropped her hands to caress his growing bulge through the fabric of his jeans. "I can see you are too."

He smiled and kissed her again.

Upstairs, he slowly undressed her, quirking an eyebrow at the stifled yawn. "We'll be quick, baby," he murmured.

"I don't necessarily want it to be quick," she said. "Just don't expect a gymnastics routine."

He smiled. "That stuff's been a while,"

I know. She looked at him. "Do you miss it? The room I mean?"

He exhaled. "Sometimes. But keeping an apartment of that size for the rare times that the planets aligned and we could sneak off for some time together, really wasn't practical."

Ana narrowed her eyes. "Practical? You? Who are you and what have you done with Christian Grey?"

"I know. But we used it twice last year."

"In our defence we did have a new baby and William really didn't cope well off the breast."

"I don't cope well off the breast!" Christian smirked as he ran his fingers around the base of Ana's bra to the clasp at the back, which he swiftly undid. He pushed the bra down her arms and at the reveal he made a low groan of pleasure in his throat. Ana closed her eyes and dropped her head back, reveling in his touch.

In bed, Ana wrapped her legs around him and as he sank into her she moaned, pulling him tightly to her. "Ohhh… that was too long without you. I need you so much!"

"What she said," he muttered, giving soft playful bites on her neck. He moved slowly inside her, relishing the pleasure he was giving and the pleasure he was getting. He closed his eyes to give himself over to the sensations, responding to Ana's encouragements and subtle shifts beneath him, her code to tell him where and how much. He knew her so well.

"Mommy?"

Christian and Ana froze and in perfect synchronization turned their heads to the side, to be met with a very wide-eyed Darcey.

"Hello, sweetheart!" she said as innocently as she could, rolling towards her daughter as Christian smoothly slid off. He lay there cursing himself for not locking the bedroom door. But she had been fast asleep when they'd checked on her.

"What are you doing?" Darcey asked.

"Nothing now," grumbled Christian. Ana elbowed him.

"Um…Daddy was just warming me up, I'm cold."

"I'm cold too."

"Oh Christ…" Christian rolled his eyes.

"Well… um…" started Ana.

"Can I sleep with you?"

"Um…"

"Daddy can sleep in my bed."

"Oh great," Christian muttered.

They had to do something and Ana hit on a compromise. "Why don't you go back to your room and I'll come into your bed until you fall back asleep. Is that OK?"

"Can I come in your bed?"

Christian looked over at his three year old. Darcey's imploring eyes seemed to be specifically designed to make you feel like the worst parent on the planet.

"No, I'll come to your bed," said Ana. "You go ahead, I'll be there in a second."

Darcey smiled and skipped away.

Ana rolled back to him and he shook his head.

"I'm sorry," he said taking her in his arms. "Teddy and Pheobe were never like this."

"I know," she sighed. "Keep the bed warm, I'll be back as soon as I can." She kissed him, slipped out of bed, pulled a nightshirt over her head and headed to their daughter's room.

In the once again empty bed, Christian lay there, looking at the ceiling. It was times like this when he missed Escala. When family life intruded a little too much on the precious time they had together. The great penthouse was far more than they needed, but perhaps they could look for something else? It didn't need to be huge, just large enough to be able to create a good-sized playroom in. His head started to think and he knew that it was going to be a while before he'd be able to sleep again – especially as there was unfinished business with Ana. He grabbed his iPad and switched on the light.


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Leaving Ana to head into the city a little later, Christian made an early start to his last week working from Grey House. As his new driver Kennedy negotiated the morning traffic, Christian sat in the back of the car with his thoughts lost in reminiscence. It was strange to think back over the best part of twenty years to those first days, working out of a single office with a loan from Elena. Then onto assembling his first team and growing to a point where they needed Grey House. Now they needed even bigger premises and this time, he'd bought into not just office space, but a whole retail development at ground level. It was a place where people didn't just work, but could hang out, eat, shop, or see a movie. It was a major investment in both GEH and Seattle.

Gray Plaza was thirty storeys high and was made up of three linked blocks. The main one housed GEH, with Grey Publishing taking block two, which started ten floors below. Block three was topped by his brother Elliot's company, Grey Construction, which started a further five floors below that. From today GEH was moving across department by department, starting with IT. Nobody wanted to get there and find that their computers didn't work. This was causing enough upheaval as it was.

The car pulled up at the kerb and Kennedy opened the door for Christian to step out onto the wide, damp sidewalk. Around him was the growing bustle of Monday morning; people hurrying to their offices, coffee in one hand, phone in the other. He stood for a moment taking it in, noticing the smell of the wet sidewalk, the noise from the passing buses and the dull murmur of one-way conversations.

"Everything alright, sir?" Kennedy was probably expecting him to be long gone.

"Yes, fine," replied Christian. "Just taking a minute to appreciate…" Appreciate what, noise and traffic fumes? He smiled to himself. "To appreciate the city," he finished. It was hardly the clean, fresh air of their home in Aspen, but even so, it had its own beauty in order and purpose.

Christian made his way into the familiar foyer, greeting the security staff with a nod as he made his way through to the elevators. The entrance of Grey House looked just as it ever did, unaffected by the upheavals going on in the floors above. He called the elevator, got in and hit the button for his floor.

Andrea Sawyer was already there when he arrived and he narrowed his eyes. She wasn't supposed to start until 9.00am, but it was barely seven and here she was.

"Early start," he commented as he reached her desk.

"When you've been up four times in the night there comes a point when there seems very little point in going back to bed."

"I know that feeling," he chuckled. "Emma?"

Andrea shook her head. "Charlie. The transfer into a regular bed isn't going so well. He keeps wanting to come in with us."

"Darcey's much the same. OK, hit me with today," he sighed, leaning up against the counter.

"You have senior staff briefing as usual at nine. Peter Goldsmith has confirmed his ten fifteen with you and Penelope Jarvis arrived from London last night and will be here at twelve. I've booked a working lunch for you both."

"Thanks."

She looked up at him. "And you have a meeting with a Detective Marsh at three." Her tone was serious. "About the murder?"

"I didn't do it, before you start any rumours. It's not about the murder, it's about the woman's movements that night. I saw her."

"Where?"

"At Grey Plaza."

"What?" Andrea's eyes bugged.

"I was getting something from Grey Publishing for Ana and saw the lights go on in my new office as I was driving back. I went to investigate and found that it was Mrs McDowell giving her friends a guided tour. Obviously, nobody could have predicted what happened after that."

"No," said Andrea quietly. "So she was a friend of Susannah's?"

"Yes."

"And yours?"

It was a loaded question and Christian knew that it was one that he would have to answer this afternoon.

"No. Yes. A little."

"I'm sorry for your loss."

He shook his head. "I really… she wasn't…" he hesitated. What was she? "She was an acquaintance, nothing more," he said more firmly, chastising himself for being so indecisive.

"It's still a shock, though?" Andrea soothed.

"Yeah…" he mused.

"I'll bring you some coffee," she said. "Can I get you something to eat?"

"No, thanks." He picked up his briefcase and headed into his office, walking into the unfamiliar sight of a line of white storage boxes stacked up against the wall. Andrea followed him in.

"If there's anything you want to pack yourself, just grab one and write 'private' on the top." She placed the coffee on his desk.

"Like what?"

"I don't know… Photographs?" She rolled her eyes, referring to the misunderstanding that had once arisen between them. "Oh, and I appreciate that there are some things you'd rather I didn't know – and before I say this, can I just add that the vasectomy thing could have been avoided if you'd just told me that you wanted a quiet afternoon."

"Excuse me, the door's still open," he gestured.

"Sorry. But still."

"OK, point taken."

"Tell me and I can do something about it. Don't and I may end up routing you around Pluto."

Christian didn't miss a beat. "Just as long as you never send me to Uranus."

Andrea stared at him, mouth dropping open and coughed out a laugh. "I can't believe you said that."

Christian sniggered. "Sorry, I couldn't resist."

"You know, sometimes, for a very urbane man, you have flashes of filth about you," she folded her arms.

"Oh, Mrs Sawyer," he laughed. "If only you knew."

She narrowed her eyes. "I know enough. I don't want to know the full extent of your depravity. I don't want to wake up one morning to find that my boss's weekend sex parties in Aspen are all over the _Seattle Times_ – which I will tell them that you've _never_ invited me to by the way."

"Andrea, I promise you. On the extremely rare occasion that I lose my sanity and host a sex party _anywhere_, you'll be first on the list. I can assure you, that sex parties are not my scene."

"Good," she turned on her heel and then turned back again. "Oh... and could Luke and I book Aspen for a weekend, soon, please?"

"Sure. Just call Taylor."

"Thanks. So, um… this meeting that you've mysteriously scheduled for Wednesday afternoon at three. Can I re-arrange it, because it's one of the only times that Alistair Clancey can meet with you?"

"No," he shook his head. "I want to keep it there."

"Is it a medical appointment?"

"No, but it will probably be just as painful." Andrea looked at him. She was expecting him to tell her what it was and he didn't really want to do that, not yet, anyway. "I don't want to say what it is because it's not something that I'm sure's going to happen. But if I get a positive response in the meeting, then I'll let you know."

"OK." This seemed to appease her and she headed back to her desk.

From his briefcase, Christian took a little plastic bag that Taylor had given him this morning. It contained two tiny keys. He placed it in his drawer for later.

xxXXxx

There had been an odd feeling to the last senior staff meeting at Grey House. It was almost like the last day of school. Even though they would be doing exactly the same thing next Monday morning, this time, they would be meeting in their pristine new offices downtown. As the staff filtered out of his office, he couldn't help thinking that it was the end of an era.

Susannah was talking to Melanie Clearwater, the head of PR at GEH. Christian approached them.

"Excuse me, Melanie." He turned to Susannah. "Could I have a word, please?"

"Sure," said Susannah and as the last of the staff members left his office Christian shut the door.

"I won't keep you a moment," he said and walked over to his desk from where he removed the little pack of keys. He walked back to her. His eyes went to the metal choker at her throat. "I think you know how I feel about collars and I thought your husband's opinion concurred with mine. So, I'm extremely surprised to find that you've arrived back from your honeymoon with one and it looks like you are too?"

"Yes."

"Susannah, I don't know how long Scott's been involved in the scene, but both you and I know that discretion is the watchword. I know that as just your boss that I'm not really entitled to an opinion on your private life, but I think this is an exception. I would have been accommodating if it had been a discreet piece of jewellery. But this is not discreet. Anyone with even an ounce of knowledge about the scene will know in an instant what that is and I'm unhappy about a senior employee being so openly marked as a submissive."

Susannah nodded that she understood.

"I also know that it is not my business to interfere in your and Scott's relationship, but I am making a request." He held out the keys to her. "I would prefer that you didn't wear the collar during the time that you are on GEH premises – wherever that happens to be in the world. I can't force you to comply, I can only request it and give you means to achieve it, if you desire."

"And if I don't?"

"Then, I ask you to hide it with scarves or high-necked clothing. I'm sorry Susannah but I…" He looked out of the window for a moment to gather his thoughts. "I know this is going to sound disloyal, but things are not as they were. I have far too much at stake now and I can't afford the merest hint of suspicion about my past."

There was silence between them and Susannah took the packet from him.

"All I'm asking is that when you get here in the morning you take it off and when you go home at night you put it back on. That, or hide it please. It's not something I want to see." There was a knock on the door. "Come in." Olivia Lucas, his second assistant put her head around the door. "Peter Goldsmith is on his way up."

"Thank you Olivia." Christian smiled at Susannah. "Anyway, welcome back Mrs McDowell. I hope you had an enjoyable honeymoon."

She nodded, dragging in a ragged breath. "Yes."

Susannah left and Christian walked over to the windows, pushed his hands into his pockets and looked out over the city. A ping from his computer alerted him to a new email. He pulled out his phone and checked it on there. It was the figures on a possible Seattle Sounders purchase from his Business Manager.

"Is that all?" he muttered, looking at the figure the club was looking for. It was Teddy's 10th birthday at the end of the month, perhaps Christian had just found his son the ideal gift.

xxXXxx

As Susannah approached, her PA, Kelly Jones, poured her a coffee, handing it to her as she reached the desk. "There are no messages," said Kelly, "but Mrs Grey is waiting to see you."

"I bet she is," muttered Susannah.

Susannah pushed her office door open. "Ana, great to see you."

Kelly had already provided her visitor with a drink. Ana Grey rose from her seat and waited until the door clicked shut before she spoke.

"You can be in no doubt of why I'm here."

Susannah placed her coffee and her notepad on her desk. "I know and I'm sorry."

"I appreciate that you couldn't know that he was going to show up, but that was a gross invasion of his privacy and you've now put him in a potentially difficult situation."

Susannah nodded. She knew that.

"But over and above that, I am so sorry to hear about what happened to Faye. You lost a friend and I know that hurts."

Susannah tried to bite back tears, but failed, scooping one from her eye with her finger.

"It was awful."

Ana stroked Susannah's upper arm. "I can't begin to imagine how awful. Have you been in contact with Faye's husband?"

"No, not yet. I was going to call later today and perhaps go over. It seems right that one of us do that, as she was with us when she…" Susannah shook her head. "I can't say that word."

"If there's anything I can do, please let me know. Money to help with counselling for the children, or for him. A vacation… whatever. Did her husband know about… before?"

"No. She'd left the scene entirely."

"And you have no idea how, or who?"

Susannah shook her head. "The last time we saw her she was heading back to her room and there was only us around, no one else."

"I'm sorry, I don't mean to question you, again. I'm sure that the Police have already asked you more questions than you've ever wanted to answer. Christian's meeting with Detective Marsh this afternoon."

"And I'm so sorry for involving him in it."

"Well, hopefully Marsh will just put it down to what it was, a casual meeting. How did you say you all knew each other?"

"That we're a book group." Susannah watched Ana wrinkle her nose. "I know, it's a bit lame."

"Christian has met Faye before, you know that?"

"Yes."

"So he's not going to deny knowing her."

"What's he going to say?"

"I don't know," said Ana. "He hadn't decided when he left this morning." She moved her attention to Susannah's collar. "Has Christian spoken to you about your collar?" She touched her own neck.

"Yes," Susannah opened her hand to show her the keys.

"And?"

"I'm going to take it off at work."

"Want me to help you while I'm here?"

Susannah gave a tearful smile and handed Ana the little packet. "Please."

Ana took out one of the keys and Susannah held back her hair and lifted her chin as Ana unlocked the choker and pulled it from around her neck. She felt an enormous physical and emotional weight leave her.

"My God, it's heavy," said Ana, bouncing it in her hand. She looked at Susannah's neck, "Oh it's left a mark, ooh that looks…" she peered closer and then turned a concerned expression on Susannah. "That's a welt. Did he hurt you?"

"He pulled on it," she whispered.

Ana closed her eyes. "That's not…"

"Not right, I know." Susannah fluffed out her hair to cover the side of her neck and tried to stand straighter, to almost shrug it off. But she found that she could not look Ana Grey in the eye.

"I'm sorry." Ana brought her hand to her own neck.

"Is it visible?" Susannah turned her head and Ana nodded.

"Do you have a scarf?"

"No."

"You'd better ask Kelly to get you one. Look, I know that these are governed by agreements… contracts between people, but this…" Ana shook her head. "Do you have someone you can talk to about it? Do any of the… others have any experience they can offer you?"

"I'm sure they will, although I can already tell you what Leila will say."

"What?"

"Rescind it."

"It's not a position I thought I would ever find myself in, but for once I have to agree with Ms Williams. But it's your life, Susannah, it's your marriage and it's your contract."

"He wasn't like this before. It was good. But ever since New Year's he's been… I don't know… odd. Tense. Suspicious – although God knows what of. My life is exactly the same as it was this time last year."

Ana placed the choker in Susannah's hand. "I always thought that the sub had all the power. Perhaps it's time that Scott reminded himself of that."

As Ana left the office and Susannah settled down to work, she touched the tender skin on her neck, feeling the raised welt. They needed to talk, she knew that. If only she could work out where to start.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Detective Harry Marsh slammed the car door and tilted his head back to look up at the steel and glass edifice of Grey House. He puffed on the death-throes of a cigarette. His colleague, Keeley Fox, came to stand beside him, lifting her large black bag onto her shoulder. Marsh looked very much like he'd fallen into a pile of laundry and wriggled about until he was dressed. His skin was equally wrinkled from fifty-five years of hard living. Detective Fox by contrast was half his age and smartly attired in a well-cut pant suit, set off by a crisp white shirt. Her long brunette hair was neatly brushed into a ponytail.

"The fucker's over-compensating for something," Marsh murmured, flicking his finished cigarette to the sidewalk and grinding it to a pulp with his heel. "Probably needs a microscope to find his dick."

He set off across the sidewalk, heedless to the pedestrians that he scattered in his path. Marsh was on a mission to get this over with as soon as possible. There was nothing he hated more than these pointless follow-up calls. He liked it even less that he was being made to do this one in person. He wasn't allowed to send Fox on her own. He had orders from on high that Christian Grey was to be given Marsh's personal attention.

Inside, in the large open entrance, they were greeted at the front desk by young, immaculately presented staff, who recognised the smartly-dressed Ms Fox as a kindred spirit and Marsh as some unidentifiable swamp-life. Their otherworldly politeness unsettled him and he was now convinced that Grey had hired a consignment of animated mannequins. But their efficiency could not be faulted and the detectives were quickly ushered through the security barrier and directed to the twentieth floor.

They stepped out of the elevator to be faced by yet more immaculate staff, sat behind sandstone desks so vast that they looked as if they had been hewn _in situ_. Both of the women were blonde, toned and groomed to within an inch of their lives. Beside him he heard Fox sigh with pleasure. This was the kind of environment she wanted to work in. She stuck out like a sore thumb in the old, shabby, yellow and brown offices that the homicide division inhabited downtown.

"Please take a seat," said one of the assistants. She indicated to chairs that looked as if they'd been selected from a catalogue of stylish but uncomfortable furniture. "Mr Grey will be five more minutes. May I get you some coffee?"

"No thank you," said Marsh.

"Yes please," said Keeley, who was rewarded with a smile of approval from the blonde goddess. As she left her desk Marsh checked out the woman. She was petite, dressed in a close-fitting gray suit and as she walked, he caught sight of the scarlet soles on her high heels. She had an imperiousness about her, the shoes not so much saying 'fuck me' as 'don't even think about fucking with me.' As she returned with the coffee he noted the wedding ring on her finger and wondered if she lived in Stepford?

Marsh looked at his watch. "We don't have all afternoon," he said, well aware that some people's idea of 'five more minutes' was the world's idea of ninety.

"Neither does Mr Grey," said the goddess, her blue eyes attempting to freeze him as she returned to the pale sandstone eyrie. He sat down on the uncomfortable chair feeling like a virus that had contaminated a sterile environment. The other blonde-haired woman gave him an equally cool stare, rising from her seat briefly to retrieve a file from a filing cabinet behind her.

Marsh had seen Christian Grey in newspaper and magazine pictures, but he was unprepared for the sight of the man when he walked around the corner a minute later. He looked like a fashion model, attired in thousands of dollars' worth of hand-made Saville Row suit. Keeley Fox jumped up as if she'd been given an electric shock and even Marsh found himself unconsciously rising to his feet. Even Grey's mere presence commanded respect. The man stopped briefly at the eyrie, conveying some unheard instruction to his Personal Assistant that made the flash of a smile appear on her lips. He turned and came towards them with an outstretched hand. It was three o'clock, precisely.

"Detective Marsh," he said shaking Harry's hand before turning to his colleague. "And Detective Fox, this is a real pleasure," he shook Keeley's hand for longer. "When I was growing up, my father used to regale me with stories of Kendall Fox's policing methods. I'm pleased to see that you're following in your father's footsteps."

Keeley melted under the flawless manners of Christian Grey. Rich, good looking _and _knew who his colleague's illustrious father was? Marsh hated the smooth fucker even more.

Grey showed them into his office, which contained none of the usual trappings of work - such as a desk buried under three years' worth of filing and coffee cups. It was equally as cold and clinical as the rest of the building, save for a line of photographs on the wing of his desk. Marsh clocked them as he drew near. They were pictures of Grey's wife and their four children. A black and white one of the Greys on their wedding day startled him. From a distance it could almost have been Keeley and by her glassy-eyed stare at it, she was probably imagining that it was.

"Please, sit down," said Christian, unbuttoning his jacket and smoothly dropping into his chair. Harry and Keeley took the two seats opposite and Keeley hesitated, first crossing her legs at the knee and then uncrossing them to tuck one behind the other at the ankle. Marsh rolled his eyes. _Billionaire Boy ain't gonna be interested in you, sweet cheeks_, he thought as Keeley straightened her spine. It thrust her breasts ever so slightly forward. Marsh looked at them out of the corner of his eye longer than he should. "Detective Marsh?" Christian Grey's voice pulled Harry's sight back to the billionaire, but he was unable for a second to clear his head of the image of Ms Fox's fantastic tits adorned in white lace.

"Yes, um…" Marsh swallowed and crossed his legs. "So…um… Friday night."

"Saturday morning," corrected Grey. "Admittedly, it was just after midnight, but I think it's important to be specific when it comes to Mrs Silvestri's final hours, don't you think?"

"Oh… oh yes," Marsh agreed and got another mental hit of lace covered nipples. "Um…" he reeled, flicking a glance to Fox, but she didn't reciprocate. Her attention was completely given to Christian Grey. "So we interviewed the girls," he continued.

"Women," said Fox.

"Women." Marsh bristled at the correction and cleared his throat. "We interviewed the women on Saturday and they said that…" He fished in his pocket for his notebook and found that he hadn't brought it. From her bag, Detective Fox produced a file, folded the cover back and handed it to him. He scanned down the summary sheet. "They said that they met you at Grey Plaza." Marsh closed the file and handed it back to Fox. "Could you explain to us what you were doing in your office just after midnight on Saturday May 11th with fifteen women?" Marsh sat back. Christian Grey mirrored it, resting his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepling his fingers.

"In the shower," said Fox.

"What?" said Marsh.

"They were in his shower," she repeared. "All of them."

Marsh stared at the young detective. "All of them?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fifteen women – in the shower?"

"Yes."

"Don't be so…"

"Detective Fox is quite correct," said Grey. "The women were in my shower – albeit briefly," he raised his hand.

"And you can get fifteen women in your shower?"

"Apparently so," Grey smiled. "Although, they omitted to mention that in the sales brochure."

Keeley gave a nervous laugh and Marsh thought he saw smiles exchanged between Fox and Grey. He tried to ignore it.

"So then," Marsh's hackles started to rise. "Explain the presence of fifteen women in your shower."

"Very easily," said Christian, leaning back further in his chair and twisting from side to side. "I went over to my wife's office to pick up a file on her behalf."

"At midnight? You two don't have better things to do at that time?"

Grey smiled. "She was in Sydney. I'd been working late at home and had just gone to bed when she messaged me. She wouldn't have expected me to still be up, but I was and I called her back. After I got off the phone to her I decided to make the trip into the city while it was quiet." Beside him, Fox made a note. She'd be checking that Grey did make a call to his wife that night. Not that Grey was particularly a suspect, but it was important to establish the credibility of his statements.

"Why not leave it 'til morning?" said Harry.

"I don't sleep well when my wife is away." Grey's expression became serious. "And it seemed like a good use of my time."

Marsh pointed to the photographs. "You left your kids home alone while you drove into the city?"

"No, my housekeeper and her husband took care of them."

Keeley Fox paused in her note taking. "What are their names?" she asked. "Your housekeeper and her husband, I mean."

"Jason and Gail Taylor. Do you want the names of my children?"

"No. That won't be necessary. So Mr and Mrs Taylor," she continued. "They can corroborate what time you left and what time you arrived back?"

"Yes, and so can the security tape from my property, which I will make available should you need it."

"Thank you, sir." Keeley scribbled a note on it. Harry suspected she'd volunteer to collect it.

"So, you have your wife's file," said Detective Marsh, then what?"

"I got back in the car and left for home. Just after I turned onto Fourth Street I noticed the lights go on in my office and naturally, I was curious to know who was in there at that time in the morning, so I went to investigate."

"Yes," said Marsh. "We have a statement from Curtis Stiles, a member of the Night Security team at Grey Plaza, who says that you arrived in a somewhat agitated state."

Christian Grey smiled. "I don't believe Mr Stiles caught me at my best."

"He had no knowledge that the women were in the building until he made his way up to the office to confirm that everything was in order," said Keeley. "He witnessed the women standing in the shower." Her statement seemed more about reassuring Marsh that that she wasn't making it up.

"So you're there quite by chance with fourteen…"

"Fifteen," corrected Fox.

Marsh rolled his eyes. "_Fifteen_ strange women in your shower. How does a man react to that?" Marsh shifted in his seat. "Particularly a man of your… caliber, shall we say?"

Grey quirked up an eyebrow. "You are forgetting the reason why they were there in the first place. Susannah McDowell is my Chief Legal Advisor. She was giving her friends a guided tour of her company's new offices."

"And she was in yours without your permission." Marsh picked a piece of fluff off his pants.

"There's nothing in there." The furniture's in but as you can see, all my personal effects are still here. It's not my office, yet. If they had done the same thing, here then yes, I would have been angry."

"Angry enough to kill?"

Christian Grey recoiled. "What?!"

"Sir?" Fox looked at him in puzzlement.

Marsh raised his hands. "I have to ask these things."

"No you don't! I was at home and frankly, Detective Marsh I expect to be believed." All trace of warmth left the man on the other side of the desk and Harry knew that it was a stupid thing to have asked. He'd done it only to get a rise of the smooth-tongued fucker. To see what sort of a man Grey really was. A pissed-off one, now. He squirmed slightly under Grey's glacial stare but there was something about the man that didn't appear quite right. Marsh had the sense that a very bright light was being directed at him so that he couldn't see what lurked in the shadows. It was an instinct honed from over thirty years in the Police. Harry Marsh just knew there was something vital that Grey wasn't going to divulge. It was up to him to back off and hope he could see beyond the dazzle.

"I apologise," he murmured. Grey didn't thaw so he turned things over to his colleague. "Ms Fox, do you have any questions for Mr Grey?"

Keeley stared at him for a second, opening and closing her mouth like a drowning fish, before turning to face Grey and blushing scarlet. She opened the file again.

"Uh… Miss…" she looked down the names of the women. "Sorry, Doctor. Doctor Jessica Collins, um… told me that… um… they spent about a half hour with you? Could you confirm that, sir?"

Christian Grey relaxed back into his chair. "Well, I didn't make an exact note of the time, but a half hour would probably be correct."

"And how did Mrs Silvestri seem to you?"

"Happy."

"She didn't appear anxious or unsettled at all?"

Grey shook his head. "Not that I can recall."

"Did she say anything that concerned you?"

"Not in regards to her health or wellbeing. I remember her mentioning that her daughter had come down with Chicken Pox." He gave a smile. "My elder two have had it. We were comparing rashes."

Marsh narrowed his eyes. That was way too familiar for a casual chat and certainly for Christian Grey - if his reputation was to be believed. A few of his colleagues had crossed paths with the man in years gone by and had found him as forthcoming as a clam. Marsh jumped back in with the questions. "Had you met Faye Silvestri before?"

"Yes, once. She came here to see Susannah McDowell and I just happened to run into them in the hallway."

"Is that all?" Marsh was unconvinced.

Christian raised his hands apologetically. "That's all."

"And after they left?" Harry continued. "What were your movements?"

"I remember going to the window and looking out at the view. This one's very familiar to me," he gestured to the window behind him. "Then I made my way out the way I came. No doubt Mr Stiles can corroborate what time I left."

"And did you see anything or anyone suspicious out in the street?"

Christian Grey dropped his head. "No," he said quietly.

The room was filled by profound silence.

Fox broke it. "Mr Grey, is there anything else you'd like to add?"

"I don't think so. I'm just imagining how I would feel if I were in her husband's shoes. Do you have any leads?"

"We're in the early stages," said Marsh.

"Any idea why she was targeted?"

"Again, Mr Grey, it's early days. We're still collecting and analyzing primary evidence."

"Well, if there's anything I can do, please, just let me know."

"Thank you." Marsh rose from his seat. Keeley Fox followed reluctantly.

In the elevator Harry Marsh surveyed himself in the polished metal interior. He had to admit that he did look like shit. But anyone would look like shit next to Christian Grey. Even Keeley Fox herself, teased for being the smartest-dressed detective on the force, looked shabby next to the runway models, both male and female, that Christian Grey employed. As they got out of the elevator on the first floor Marsh found it incredible that so many beautiful people worked in one building. Was there a clause in their contracts that said that they were never allowed to be ugly? There wasn't so much as an eyelash out of place on anyone. His phone rang.

"Marsh."

"Sir, it's Sparshott."

After Harry had his backside permanently on the bar stool of retirement, Sparshott would be his replacement. He was a little older than Fox and just as committed to raising the professionalism of the force. He was another one who turned up to work in a suit, thinking he was working for the FBI.

"Go ahead."

"Sir, we've received the data from Silvestri's phone and the last item she received was an email with a photograph attached from Susannah McDowell, at about 1.30am."

"Why was McDowell emailing a woman who was in the same room?"

"I don't know. But the strange thing is, that it was deleted from the phone approximately three hours later."

"Oh?" Marsh stopped suddenly causing several members of Grey's workforce to concertina into him. "Do you know what the photograph was?"

"Yes sir. It had only been deleted from the phone, it hadn't been deleted from the email server. I'm forwarding it to you now."

There was an incoming beep from a message and Marsh lowered the phone to check the message and the photograph attached.

"Well, well, well," he said quietly, looking at the photograph of Christian Grey with the women. "He didn't tell us about that."

Fox peered over his shoulder. "Huh? Is that…?"

"Christian Grey and what looks like his harem. Look at them. It's like they all came out of the same box. Slim, beautiful and they all have brown hair." He turned to look at Fox. "You'd fit right in." Keeley Fox turned pink and returned to the photograph.

"Look at that," she pointed.

Faye Silvestri was resting her hand on Christian Grey's arm.

"Met her once, my ass," said Marsh. "They've got history." He pointed at the screen. "My guess is they've all got history… With him."


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**Tuesday Morning**

Keeley Fox sipped her coffee, clicking on image after image of Christian Grey. The team had been trying to establish a link between him and the women in the photograph, but with the exception of Susannah McDowell they'd drawn a blank. She'd scoured the Internet using every search parameters she could think of, but there wasn't so much as a photograph, a mention, or even a spurious piece of gossip on the _Seattle Nooz_ website. The only woman Grey had ever been photographed or mentioned with in a social capacity was his wife. Before her, there was no one. But Fox shared Marsh's belief that the photograph suggested that this was more than a chance meeting. They were too relaxed. Keeley herself would never have been that much at ease standing next to him. He had a presence that she would describe as commanding and even at approaching forty, Christian Grey was a handsome bastard. The links between the women themselves were equally elusive. What did a top flight Lawyer, a School Teacher, a Doctor, an advertising copywriter, an artist or any of the other women have in common with each other? Only two of them had attended the same school, some had moved to the Seattle area from other parts of the country, but the team couldn't find a consistent link between them all. So Grey had to be the link, although if they were all his ex-girlfriends, then the guy obviously had a serious thing for brunettes with long hair. This cheered Keeley as she clicked through more ridiculously handsome pictures of him. The guy could sure wear a suit.

The room was quiet. The medical exam reports were now back on Faye Silvestri and it had been as they had first suspected, she had been raped. They had picked up a good deal of forensic evidence from the room, but nothing that had enabled them to link it to anyone's DNA profile. Whoever had committed this crime was a first time offender. They were currently working their way through the people in Mrs Silvestri's life and nowhere was there even the merest hint of her ever been linked to Christian Grey. Fox was heading over to Bremerton later to start the process of interviewing the other members of staff at the Elementary School that Faye taught at. Online reports from the town had already noted them as being in a state of profound shock at the death of a popular teacher.

"Got it!" said Sparshott, thumping the desk.

"Got what?" Keeley got up from her chair and walked over to her colleague.

"The link."

"Really?"

"Yep." Ryan Sparshott turned and grinned at Keeley. "Audi."

"What?" Keeley frowned.

"They all have Audi's."

She laughed. "Are you serious?" Fox pulled up a chair and sat down next to him looking at his computer screen.

"Yes. I just got the data from Licensing. Look." He scrolled back to the top. "We know that Silvestri had an Audi, but the rest of them do, too. And look at the colour."

Keeley Fox scanned the list. "You're joking me."

"Different models, different ages, but yes. All of them have a red Audi."

"And Grey?"

"I didn't ask about him."

Something occurred to Fox and she scurried back to her bank of images of Christian Grey. She scanned through them, finally picking the one she remembered. He'd attended a party at the city's main Audi dealership at some point. "I bet he does."

"Want me to ask them?" asked Ryan calling up a new email window.

"Yes please." Keeley smiled. "Just to satisfy an itch," she whispered to herself.

"What have we got?" Marsh's gruffness tore her from her daydreams and his sudden appearance startled her.

"We've got a definite link between the women," said Ryan. "It's odd, but definite."

"And…?" Marsh added when Sparshott didn't reply.

"Audi sir. All the women have red Audi's."

"Is that it?" Marsh was not impressed.

Ryan shrugged. "Well, it's a link."

Marsh sighed. "Not exactly a convincing one."

"Why not just ask them what the link is?"

"We did," said Keeley. "Or at least I did in the interviews I conducted. They said they were a book group."

"A bookgroup that came to a gathering without a single book between them," reminded Marsh.

Sparshott pushed his chair back from the desk and turned to face Fox and Marsh. "That's plausible. I go to a bar to watch sports but I don't take a football with me."

"No, but if someone reads enough to be in a bookgroup, you'd kind of expect books to be part of their lives," said Marsh. "Anything on linking them to Grey?"

Keeley shook her head. "Nothing, sir."

"At all? On the entire Internet?"

"No. The only woman he's linked to is his wife."

Marsh pursed his lips. "Do you think someone's been in and cleaned up his Internet Reputation?"

"No. There are no links missing, there are no unexplained absences. There's just Christian Grey on his own and then at some point in 2011 he starts getting photographed with the woman who shortly after became his wife."

"And you can't link her to these women?"

"To Susannah McDowell, yes. They've attended one or two society parties together. But I can't find a link to any of the others."

"And what does Grey drive, out of interest? Not that he probably drives anywhere. But is he too the owner of a red Audi?"

"I'm asking." Ryan pulled himself back to the desk and started typing the email.

"I'm heading over to see Grey again in a half hour. Get me the information before then." Marsh shook his head in disbelief. "Linked by Audi's. What the fuck?"

"Sir," Keeley approached him. "You don't suspect that Grey had anything to do with this woman's death, do you?"

"No. The details from his own security cameras have him returning and staying home long before the time of Silvestri's death. But I don't like a man who keeps things from me. I don't care if he's doing all these women behind his wife's back, I just want to know the truth. One thing's for sure, if he is, he's sure got a specific type."

Ryan laughed. "Yeah. I wonder if he has a hard time keeping their names straight. Perhaps he calls them all 'baby' to save confusion?"

"Ha! You mean like you do, after famously calling Mara 'Janice' in the throes of passion?" Keeley exulted in her colleague's discomfort. "She told everyone what you did."

"Don't I know it," he muttered.

"I'll ask Grey when I see him." Marsh went to his chair and sat down. "His secretary gave me fifteen minutes at nine forty five."

"PA," corrected Keeley. "At that level she's way more than a secretary."

Marsh glared at Fox. "Well, whatever the icy bitch who books appointments with him titles herself."

"You're in a cheery mood," she muttered.

"I heard that, Ms Fox." Marsh chose a pen from the pot on his desk. "As I said, I don't like wasting my time on fuckers who won't tell me the truth the first time around and this time I'll stay there until I get it."

"You don't want me to come with you?" Keeley was hoping for another glimpse of the magnificent Mr Grey.

Harry looked at her. "No. I don't want to be wading through your drool."

At nine forty three Harry Marsh arrived back in the antiseptic waiting area outside Grey's office. This time he didn't bother taking a seat, but watched as two uniformed men shipped out cartons of paperwork under the watchful eye of the Junior Ice Bitch. The woman was dressed in pale blue today which accentuated her coldness. The Senior Ice Bitch was not at her desk, but she came out of Grey's office with several members of staff when the meeting in there finished at nine forty four, precisely. Marsh found himself conflicted. He abhorred regimented time slots that made you feel as if you were a piece of machinery; but also, he hated how much of his own time was wasted in meetings that ran over. Perhaps he could take a leaf out of Grey's book?

He was shown into the office and it was even more sterile-looking. All but one of the pictures of his family had gone from Grey's desk. The only one that remained was his wedding photograph.

"Mr Grey, thank you for seeing me at such short notice."

"You're fortunate I have this slot, although I have a meeting in the Axiom Building at ten fifteen, so you will have to keep this brief. I hope you are not here to accuse me of murder, again?"

"No. Thank you for the security tape."

"So what can I help you with this time?"

Marsh placed an envelope on Grey's desk. "Yesterday, you told us that you only met Faye Silvestri once. Is that correct?"

Christian Grey gazed implacably at Harry Marsh. "No," he said quietly. "That is not the truth."

"I suspected as much. Why did you lie, Mr Grey?"

Grey reached out towards his wedding picture and ran his finger along the desk in front of it. "My past is a… place I don't like to return to."

"I would like to know where Faye Silvestri fits into that past."

Grey flicked a glance to him. "Where will this information go?"

"We can keep it from your wife."

Christian Grey gave a low chuckle. "That won't be necessary. She already knows the whole story. But I'd rather the rest of the world didn't."

"Fair enough. I give you my word that whatever you tell me here will only become known if it relates to the investigation." Harry Marsh sat up straighter. "I don't like being lied to, Mr Grey, so I want to give you this opportunity to tell me truthfully how you know Mrs Silvestri and in fact, how you know all the women in this photograph." Harry slid the copy of the picture out of the envelope and pushed it across the table.

Christian picked it up and looked at it, saying nothing. He took a deep breath and placed it face down on the desk. "All of the women in that photograph, including Faye Silvestri, are previous sexual partners of mine."

"Sexual partners. Not girlfriends?"

"No. I did not have that kind of relationship with them."

"How would you describe your relationship with them?"

"Contractual."

"Did money change hands?"

"Absolutely not! They're not prostitutes, Detective Marsh."

He raised a hand. "Of course. I apologise." There was a defensiveness about Grey that Harry wanted to unpick. "So, these contracts," Marsh knew full well what sort of relationships required signatures, "are any of them ongoing?"

"No. All of that was a very long time ago."

"And yet, here they are." Harry reached for the picture and placed it the right way up. "All of your previous sexual partners… in your bathroom… with you… in the dead of night," he added for emphasis. "May I ask what your wife thought about that?"

"She was angry, but not for the reasons you might think, Detective."

Marsh raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Did she want to join in?"

He knew he'd stepped over a line as Christian Grey rose from his chair. "I don't believe my time is well served by answering your insulting questions." He walked towards the door and Harry reluctantly followed. Grey opened it. "I trust you have all the answers you need?" He didn't stop to find out. "Now all I ask is that you catch Mrs Silvestri's killer or I shall ask the Commissioner to re-assign the case to someone else." Of course Grey would have influence at the very top.

"I apologise for insulting your wife, Mr Grey."

"You seem to do a lot of that. Perhaps a little more thought to your questions would prevent it?"

"Maybe, but I find that it gives me an idea of the person underneath the façade, so to speak."

"Façade?" Christian closed the door. "On second thoughts, perhaps you leaving by the window would be the better option?"

"No, I'm happy to leave by the door." Harry ignored the rising ire. "Just one final question, Mr Grey. Do you know why each of the women in that picture – and I'll leave it with you - owns a red Audi?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"I bought them one each and they seem to have replaced them over time with another red Audi. After all, how could I have them at my beck and call if they had to rely on public transport to get to me?" Grey finished with a cold smile and Harry knew that it was all he would get from the man.

As Marsh made his way out of Grey House he smiled to himself over the convoluted lives that people with power and the money to hide their kinky habits, lived. No wonder Grey was never photographed with any of them. Then Harry thought back to the comment about his wife before Marsh had stupidly shut him down. What reasons would Mrs Grey have for being angry and how come she wasn't part of the group? Perhaps he'd need to speak to this intriguing woman.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

**Wednesday Morning**

Ana Grey was uncharacteristically disorganized and behind on her preparation. She put it down to her hurried exodus from Sydney at the weekend. She was still not feeling as if she was in the right time zone, or in the right day, even. While the events of the weekend had been unsettling, so had Christian – which was distracting her even more. He reassured her that his unease wasn't to do with Faye's murder, but something was gnawing away at her husband and he was being irritatingly clam-like about it. However, he was the least of her worries right now. She never went into a meeting with a potential new author for Grey Publishing having not taken the time to find out something about them. Worse, she hadn't even managed to read the guy's manuscript yet and he was due in this afternoon. She looked at the clock on her wall. It was ten fifteen. She could do it at a push. Ana looked for the information sheet that Hannah always uploaded with a manuscript, but she couldn't see it. She opened her office door and poked her head out.

"Hannah?" Her assistant looked up, blonde hair in disarray and accessorized by a pencil stuck through the topknot. "Can you send me Blake Tyne's information sheet, please?"

"Who?"

"Blake Tyne. His manuscript's in my 'To Read' box."

Hannah shook her head. "I've never heard of him."

Ana frowned. "But there's a note on it from you to say that you really enjoyed it."

"Huh?" Hannah opened the 'To Read' file and clicked on the manuscript. She opened her mouth in disbelief. "I have absolutely no memory of writing that note. Or reading this, to be honest."

"He's coming in at three so I'd better make sure I've read it, even if you haven't. Do you have an info sheet for him?"

"Sorry, but I've truthfully never heard of the guy."

"So how's this got in my box?"

Hannah gave a shrug. "I have no idea."

Ana chewed her lip. Something about this made her feel that she'd been bounced into something, almost like… she smiled to herself. Christian in the early days had been very good at bouncing her into things - and bouncing her off things - but that was a different story. She walked to the kitchen and selecting a large mug made herself a fresh supply of tea. She stopped by her assistant's desk on the way back.

"I'm going to need the rest of the morning and possibly some of the afternoon to get through it, so I'm going to divert my phone to you."

"OK."

"And try and read the first three chapters of Tyne's manuscript if you get time. I can't believe that we've fallen down on this one."

"I will and I'll see if I've misfiled his details." Hannah clicked on the link and downloaded the manuscript to her machine.

"I'll see you at lunchtime." Ana disappeared into her office and shut the door.

**xXXx**

Across town at Grey Plaza Christian was restless. Ana hadn't said a single word about reading his manuscript and the reality that he was fearful of looked like it was coming true: He wasn't good enough. He'd never failed at anything before – well, apart from getting Darcey to tidy up, but everyone had failed at that so he didn't feel that life was singling him out for special treatment in that regard. Writing had become such an intimate thing for him that it had taken ages to pluck up the courage to show it to her. Hers was the only opinion he valued, but he wanted Ana to like it because it was good, not because she was married to the man who'd written it.

Worrying about what Ana thought of his writing had filled every waking moment since Monday, apart from the irritating interviews with Detective Marsh and his rather interesting sidekick, Keeley Fox. Seeing her had cast him back to an earlier time and for a few minutes he had allowed those old thoughts of taking a submissive to surface, exploring them, testing them and realising that they left him feeling empty and depressed. He was not that man any more and more importantly, he didn't want to be that man anymore. How could he ever have lived in that way? The truth was that he'd done what he could, to manage himself and his emotions the best way he knew how to at the time. He was just thankful that the magical Miss Steele had come along to show him that there was a better way. Admittedly, it had been a shock that it had contained quite so much baby sick. But nothing had banished the demons of his childhood more than getting a chance to experience how it should have been, though his own children. He owed Ana everything and writing the book had been in part a thank you to her that he was even able to write it at all. He picked at a fingernail as the interior designer showed him around the senior staff's new offices, looking for Christian to declare it complete, sign it off and most importantly, authorize payment of the nose-bleed inducing bill. Exactly why did they need 12 cushions at $300 a piece? Who the fuck knew and who the fuck cared? The designer droned on while all Christian could think about was what his wife would say when she got to _that bit._

**xXXx**

"Holy fuck," muttered Ana and stopped reading as if she'd been burned, unsure if she should go further. She ran to her office door and flung it open. "Hannah?" Her PA was not at her desk. She looked around for one of the editorial assistants. "Danielle, do you know where Hannah is?"

"I think she's gone to the restroom. Do you want me to get her?"

"Please."

"Are you OK, Ana?"

"Uh…yes. Just a little shaken."

"I'll go and find her."

"Thank you." Ana closed her door and leant back against it, staring at the computer screen across her office as if it might bite her. She ran her fingers through her hair collecting it into a ponytail and smoothing it with her hands, taking deep calming breaths in through her nose and out through her mouth, the unevenness betraying the unsettling emotions that she felt. "I can do this," she whispered to herself. "They're only words. It's a story. It's only a story. Come on Ana, come on," she urged, closing her eyes against a tear that suddenly blossomed and streaked its way down her cheek. Nothing she had ever read in her life had affected her this personally or this deeply. Whatever happened with Blake Tyne was slightly irrelevant. Before she made a decision about the book she would need to ask for Christian's advice. The thought of her husband calmed her and seemed to give her the strength to carry on. She took her hands away from her hair, wiped the tear from her chin and walked back to her computer.

In the Ladies' Restroom Hannah Martin was wide eyed and agog at the words she was reading on the screen. She hadn't reached the end of chapter one before she realised that this wasn't a book that she could read in public. She had transferred it onto her tablet and hidden herself away in the furthest cubicle behind a locked door. She now knew that there was absolutely no way that she could have written the comment on the manuscript in Ana's Dropbox. She would never have said she'd enjoyed this. The experience of reading it was like having an orgasm while somebody ripped your heart out. It was both arousing and agonizing.

"Hannah?"

"Shit!" she bristled quietly at the interruption

"Ana's looking for you. She looks a bit…" All over the place? If she was reading this then it was no surprise. "Hannah?" Danielle's footsteps came to the other side of the cubicle door and an eye peered through the gap down the side. "What are you doing in there? Are you OK?"

Hannah took a deep breath. "Yes, I'm fine."

"You don't sound it. Are you reading?"

Hannah covered up the screen of her tablet. "Yes," she said more brusquely. "I was just having five minutes to myself."

"You look sick."

That was unsurprising given what she'd just read. "I'm OK." She unlocked the door and stepped out to be greeted by Danielle shaking her head.

"No way are you OK. What have you been reading?"

"Something incredibly intense," she admitted.

"What?" Danielle's eyes were wide but Hannah shook her head. She couldn't let Danielle see this. It probably wouldn't get accepted if it was causing this much chaos in just two members of staff.

"Nothing," she said, although it came out pretty much as a pant. Danielle grabbed the tablet. "No, don't!" Hannah cried.

"I have never seen you look like this and I've certainly never seen Ana Grey look as messed up as she did just now, so this must be incendiary."

"To your panties, yes."

Danielle's eyeballs nearly fell out of their sockets. "Really?"

Hannah shook her head in bewilderment. "I've never… Oh my God…" she whispered.

"So this is hot?"

"Yes, but so… raw at the same time. It _hurts_ to read it. The emotion is so… and the experience, my God, it's like you're going through it with him!"

"I gotta read it!" Danielle swiped awake the tablet and launched in. Five minutes later she slumped against the white tiled walls. "Holy fuck on ice, this is…" her eyes somehow lifted from the screen and found Hannah's face. "This is…" she repeated in slow, hushed tones. "The _motherlode_. Grey Publishing _has_ to have this. You have to get Ana to sign him. What's this guy's name?"

"Blake Tyne."

"When's he coming in?"

"This afternoon."

"I can't wait to meet him."

"Neither can I," Hannah admitted. "Although God knows how I'm going to look the guy in the eye. How the fuck can somebody write a woman's orgasm in that much detail?"

Danielle's mouth popped open. "Show me!"

Back in her office she hadn't finished the book, but Ana could read no more. It was half past two and she was an emotional wreck. Somehow she needed to calm down. She was tempted to pull rank as his wife and drag Christian out of a meeting to come down here so he could stick her back together and help her work out how on earth to play this. She pretty much had to tell the guy that it was a no. The emotional honesty was searing and in places, Ana had felt every sentence as a knife slicing open her heart. She clicked closed the document, noticing that her hand was shaking as she lifted her hand from her mouse. She reached for her phone and speed dialled Christian's direct line at Grey House. He didn't answer. She tried again, dialing his cell this time. He picked up.

"Baby?"

"Are you busy?" her voice was weak and uncertain.

"Um… I have a meeting a three."

Ana screwed up her eyes, against the tears. She really needed him. "Could you stop by before you go, please? It's important. I need…" she broke off in a sob. "I need to talk to you!"

Hearing how upset she was, he gave her what she needed. "Oh baby, of course. I'm on my way!"

"Thank you," she said. As she replaced the receiver her head slumped to her desk.

Out in the office Hannah started moving papers around in a way that suggested that she wasn't really with it. Over at her desk, now reading her own copy of the book that she'd persuaded Hannah to email her, Danielle was looking flushed and kept wriggling on her seat. Ana's door was closed and she dared not knock to door to see what condition her boss was in. Suddenly a shout went up from Simran, who was sitting by the window. She was their lookout.

"Oh yes. Code Grey, people!"

"Oh fucking hell," moaned Hannah. As if things weren't bad enough now she had to try not be aroused in front of her boss's sexy husband.

"He's in gray and white with a purple tie and he's moving quickly. Hannah? Why didn't you warn us?"

She shook her head. "He's not scheduled to be here." Hannah suddenly felt sick, wondering if Ana calling for her had been because she'd been in some other difficulty and had called Christian instead? She got up and walked over to Ana's office, knocking softly on the door. "Ana?" There was a weak reply from within. "Mr Grey's on his way up."

"Thank you," came the slightly more audible reply and Ana appeared red-eyed and disheveled at the door.

"Oh my God, are you sick?"

Ana shook her head. "No, it's… that book." Mrs Grey looked devastated, fearful even. "Don't read it. Please, just delete it."

"You're not going to take the meeting?"

"I'll take the meeting, but… I can't publish it, it's too much." Ana was not remotely aroused, she was deeply upset. Hannah was confused. Yes, there were some distressing bits, but the sex made up for those. The squeak of the main door made them both look up. Christian Grey was striding towards them like a force of nature, his face a mask of concern for his wife, who was rapidly losing the ability to stand.

"Ana?!" He scooped her up into his arms and at his embrace all ability to hold on to her emotions left his wife. Cradling her he kicked the door of her office open. "Hannah, can you bring her some water," he shouted, sending the PA darting for the water cooler and pretty much spilling it everywhere.

Hannah returned to the office to find Christian sat on the sofa with his wife in his arms.

"You need to calm down, Ana and tell me what's wrong." He stroked her hair. "I can't bear to see you like this. What's upset you?"

"A book."

"Is it that bad?" he joked.

"No, no, it's… Oh God, it's… so intense. It's…" she reached up and touched his face and Hannah had to look away, aware that she was caught in a most private of moments. Ana swallowed and raked in a breath. "It's like… it's like… it's like he was writing about you. I could barely read it," she whispered.

Hannah froze,

"That's because he was," Christian said softly. In her chest Hannah Martin's heart missed several beats. "Blake Tyne is me, Ana. I wrote that book. I wrote my story."

His wife started to cry, stroking his face. "I can't publish it!" she gasped. "I can't… it's so..."

"Ok, Ok," he said pulling her to him. "I'm so sorry Ana. I really didn't want to make you cry."

Hannah left the water on the table, backing away now absolutely sure that she needed to be anywhere else but in this room, right now.

She returned to her seat, aware that the rest of the office were throwing surreptitious glances in her direction. Danielle came over.

"Is she OK?"

"Not really."

"It's nearly three. Blake Tyne will be here soon."

"He's not coming," said Hannah, hearing the blood pounding in her ears. "Ana's not well enough to see him."

"Obviously. When did you reschedule for?"

"I haven't yet. I'll see how Ana is tomorrow before I do that." A numbness was stealing over her. She knew things about Christian Grey that played at odds in her head. An abused small child, a sexually dominated teenager, how that played out in the rest of the book she didn't know yet, but one thing was for sure, the true identity of Blake Tyne would never leave her lips.

"Hey, I sent it to Molly and Simran," said Danielle.

"What? No! That's… Get it back from them. Tell them to delete it!"

Danielle narrowed her eyes. "It's OK, they'll have copies anyway once we sign him."

"I don't think…" Hannah stopped herself and took a breath. "Regardless, that is someone's work, we should treat it with respect."

"Oh come on. We all share manuscripts to read them prior to giving them to Ana. This is no different. They won't leave the office."

"Just as long as it doesn't."

Danielle went back to her seat as Ana's office door opened and Mr Grey strode out. "Hannah can you cancel my wife's appointments for the rest of the day, please. I'm taking her home. Can you call Andrea and get her to do the same for me. Tell her I'll see Tom at seven thirty tomorrow."

"Yes, Mr Grey." She couldn't look at him. "I hope Ana feels better soon."

He sighed. "So do I." He took a step towards her. "I guess you heard that it was me who wrote the book?"

"Yes."

He gave a sigh. "That wasn't the reaction I was expecting," his smile was rueful. He straightened up and suddenly appeared far more businesslike. "You can delete Blake Tyne's manuscript. Ana won't be publishing it."

Hannah nodded and did it there and then. "Done," she said. But it was still on her tablet.

"Thank you." Christian Grey turned and went back into the office.

Danielle hurried over. "She's not publishing it? She's a fucking idiot! He'll take it somewhere else. Nobody's going to pass on that, she's losing her touch."

"Danny, she's upset."

"Harper Collins won't pass on it. It's sensational!"

"Shhhh!" Hannah threw a glance at Ana's office door.

"Don't you shhh me! I'm outraged that she's passed on the most unique thing I've read, _ever_."

"She has her reasons."

"Well she'd fucking well better explain them. I've half a mind to call him and publish it myself."

"No! Look, just… shut up!"

"Shut up? Shut up! I'll shut up when this guy gets the recognition he deserves."

Hannah stood up. "Fine! But do it tomorrow, yes? I have work to do."

Chastened, Danielle slunk back to her desk. Hannah glanced around the office. Simran was staring at her screen with her mouth open, while Molly had clearly got to page 42. She'd gone puce.

"Oh God. What have I done?" she whispered.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Christian was on his left side propped up on his elbow. Beside him, still warm from the bath that they'd shared, Ana lay on her back, her eyes closed as Christian's fingertips caressed her face. He traced the outline of her lips, then trailed his fingers down over her jaw and her throat to the hollow at the base of it. His eyes moved to the swell of her chest, gently rising and falling beneath royal blue satin.

"I'm very proud of you," she said, drawing his eyes back to her face. "To be able to write about it like that." Ana put her arm behind her head to prop herself up a little more. Her eyes were still a little pink from the tears she'd cried.

"Thank you," he whispered. "But it was never my intention to make you cry." He touched the creases around her eye across which the tears had run.

"I know that. But you wrote about the things you went through and that's always made me cry. I can't bear to think of anyone hurting you and that's why…"

"You won't publish it."

"Not because it isn't good, Christian, it is. You're a good writer. It's just that I couldn't bear for someone to discover the truth in it, to find out that it was you who wrote it and to use your past against you."

"Your PA knows. Hannah was in the room when I told you."

"Hannah can be discreet, I trust her. Plus, you told me she deleted it." Ana rolled onto her side and they kissed. Christian held her to him, feeling the curve of her back under the smooth fabric.

She brought her hand up and gently eased him onto his back and reciprocated his touch. Her fingers ran through his hair, over his face and sought out the day's growth of stubble that covered his chin. There was more than a smattering of gray in it these days. He looked up at the dark shadows on their bedroom ceiling.

"What started you writing?"

He thought back to that flight to Atlanta. "It was actually a suggestion from John during one of our sessions, perhaps a couple of years ago now. I think he meant for me to keep a journal of my thoughts, or do some stream of consciousness writing. But I couldn't see anything meaningful in those exercises. I've spent far too long analyzing my life and because of that, fiction seemed the natural way to go. To take a step back and look at it from the perspective of a narrator." He stopped talking while Ana's fingers ran over his lips and then moved their way downwards again. "It's a weird thing to acknowledge after all these years, but, apart from you, I don't think anything has helped me to gain more of a sense of clarity about what happened. Writing it down seemed to make the memories sharper - although that wasn't always a good thing." He closed his eyes briefly as one surfaced. "Making myself into a fictional character seemed apposite," he smiled as he turned his head to look at her. "I was two dimensional until you came along." He reached for her hand and laced his fingers into hers, feeling the simple connection. He lifted her wrist to his mouth and kissed it, inhaling the delicate scent of bath oil on her skin. "So, it's good enough to publish?"

"Yes. If I didn't know that so much of it was true, I'd jump at it."

"But my character's called Stephen White and I wrote it under a pseudonym."

"Blake Tyne?" She laughed. "That was the best you could come up with?"

He rolled on top of her and taking both her hands, held them over her head, running his nose down the inside of her upper arm. "So, what do you think I should have called myself?" He punctuated his transit with kisses, moving across to kiss the top of her right breast.

"Something equally classic. Edward, perhaps?"

"Edward?" he scoffed. "Uh…no."

"The name Blake makes me think of a guy that drives an F-150 and drinks Bud. Whereas, your character is very cultured and refined – just like you. It really wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination to substitute your fictional property magnet of Stephen White for the real-life CEO of Christian Grey and for someone to make the connection. Besides, you really don't want your Mom reading it. Now there's someone who can see Stephen and Marlene as Christian and Elena and get the math correct. Really Christian, you called your Dom, Marlene? You really need to work on your character names, my love. She'll sue." Ana grinned and Christian rolled his eyes.

"OK, fair point," he smiled.

The wriggle of her hands told him that she wanted him to let go. She brought her hands down and wrapped them around his back. "Look, perhaps what I'm saying is that the book's got potential but it's not quite there yet. Not for me, anyway. For me to publish it right now would feel like me sending you out onto the streets of the world butt naked. Want me to read it and suggest ways that we can… fictionalize it a bit more?"

Christian felt such an upwelling of love for her. "You'd do that?"

"Sure, why wouldn't I?"

"But it made you cry?"

"I know, but you saying that it's helped you to deal with the past is enough for me to want to enable you see that through."

He shook his head with a laugh of disbelief. "What did I do to deserve an angel like you wandering into my life?"

Ana shrugged. "No idea. Now fuck me."

Christian narrowed his eyes. "Mrs Grey, you have a way of killing the romance."

She kissed him and laughed. "Oh, if your twenty-seven year old self could hear you now."

A blanket of cold settled on him. "Love is for fools," he said blankly. In the accompanying silence Ana stroked his face. "Marlene was hard to write," he whispered, seeing Ana's throat move as she swallowed.

"She was hard to read." In the darkness there was a gleam of a tear in the corner of her eye. "Make love to me, Christian."

He did.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

**Thursday Morning**

At Grey Publishing, Hannah Martin walked into the kitchen to find Danielle, Molly and Simran huddled around the coffee pot. Danielle's head jerked round to see who the intruder was. When she saw it was only Hannah she relaxed. There were dark circles under her eyes. Simran looked equally exhausted.

"Did you finish it?" Danielle asked. The three of them clustered around Hannah.

"Yes," she admitted. "It had me up all night."

"Me too," they chorused.

"Without doubt, that was the hottest and the most heartbreaking thing I've ever read," said Molly. "I just want to hug Stephen and kill Marlene."

"I think everybody wants to kill Marlene," said Simran. "The evil bitch. How could she do that to Stephen? Poor guy's utterly screwed up and she puts even more twists in him!"

"And he doesn't even realise what she's doing! It's so sad," said Danielle. "It's like watching a car crash that you're powerless to prevent. You have to talk Ana around. Grey Publishing _has_ to have this."

Hannah leant back against the counter. "It's a very emotive book," she said. "There aren't many stories where we have the woman as the abuser."

"Yeah, but the sex at the end, though?" said Danielle. "When he gets away from the talons of Marlene and becomes the Dominant, himself. Holy fuck on ice that was hot! I wanted to be Natasha. I'd have done anything for him. I nearly called you at what-the-fuck o'clock this morning, just to see if you had Blake Tyne's number. I want book two, like, now!"

Simran poured herself another coffee. "I'm going to spend the entire day fantasizing about Stephen White. It will go nicely with my Christian Grey fixation. I might do a global change on the text and change his name to Christian's. White just has that feel about him."

_"No!"_ said Hannah involuntarily and her co-workers looked at her strangely. "No," she repeated more calmly. "I was told to delete the manuscript and I didn't and I stupidly passed it on to Danielle." Hannah gave her colleague a hard stare. "_Please_ don't make this worse. If Ana finds out what I did she'll fire me!" There was no telling what Christian Grey himself might do to her. "Guys, this is where it has to stay. Don't change it or pass it on to anybody else - _at all_," she stressed.

"Too late," said Molly quietly. "I let my roommate read part of it last night and she wanted a copy."

"Shit!" Hannah wailed.

"Sherry?" said Simran. "Oh she'll love it!"

"Yeah. Weird, but she imagined him as Christian Grey, too."

Simran bounced on her heels. "See, I told you! Grey is White! She's the one who works for GEH, the lucky bitch. I can't wait until I'm in the same building as him."

Hannah wished that the planet would swallow her up. She'd read the whole book from start to finish last night and these women had no idea that this was actually Christian Grey telling his own story. The adopted boy who struggled to fit in and who fell under the control of a woman, who, under the guise of trying to help him, turned him into a man who locked himself away. In reflecting on what she'd read in the early hours of the morning, Hannah thought back to her early days of working for Ana, when Christian Grey would turn up at the office with all the firepower of an Intercontinental Ballistic Missile and rage against Ana as if he were the sea crashing against cliffs of pure diamond. Ana didn't budge. She didn't have any truck with his controlling behaviour and over the last ten years Christian Grey had mellowed and matured. He'd started to smile, started to laugh and if the book he'd written was any reflection of where he'd come from, then it was an amazing journey of redemption. However, Hannah could see exactly why Ana Grey was reluctant to publish it. He'd not spared anyone's blushes with the sex. Although most of the sex happened away from it, if that was a true reflection of how good he was 'in bed,' then…damn! The book had left her with strong needs that she'd had to address before breakfast.

Although it was erotic, it was in no way a love story. If anything, it was a tragedy. Sex was the right word. That's all it was. Mere Fucking. There was no love in it from the moment the young Stephen White had hooked up with the poisonous Marlene. Was this the same Christian Grey who lost no opportunity to drop by, simply to grab a kiss from his wife? The same Christian Grey who one day, filled Ana's office with flowers and hung around the place like an excited puppy until she got back and opened her door. Christian Grey could do romance, and he could certainly express his love for his wife. But, if Stephen White was him before he met Ana, then he'd grown up with no idea of the meaning of the word and that filled her with sadness.

Hannah left the other women still talking about the book and returned to the office where the rest of her co-workers were arriving for their penultimate day in the building. She sat down and set to work on the morning's email, but she couldn't clear her head of the images of Christian Grey that the book conjured up. She couldn't imagine him ever being dominated. Couldn't imagine him needing to stoop so low just to have some kind of relationship with a woman. Couldn't imagine the screwed-up mess that Ana Steele had been faced with when she met him. And how had that started anyway? Was the story about her coming to interview him a lie and the reality was that Ana had been a former sub? It wasn't really a conversation that Hannah could have with her boss.

"Coffee?" At the sound of Christian Grey's voice and the sudden appearance of a lidded cup in front of her, Hannah Martin leapt clean off her chair. She stared at him and Christian laughed. "No problems with your reflexes then, Ms Martin?"

Hannah smoothed her hair. "No."

"We stopped for coffee on the way in and picked up one for you. Americano, skim milk, no sugar, yes?"

She took the proffered cup. "Yes, thank you."

Ana came to stand by his side. There was no trace of the weeping woman who had left the office yesterday afternoon. "Are you OK, Hannah? You look flustered."

"I love that word," said Christian. "It reminds me of being in Cornwall." He seemed to drift off into his thoughts.

Ana snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Christian, Christian, you're not crabbing with Ted off Padstow harbour wall now. Get to work."

Before Hannah's eyes Christian seemed to assume a wholly different demeanour. "Yes, Mistress," he said solemnly. "And what would you like me to do for you today?"

"Earn enough to pay for the children's school fees."

There was a twitch of a smile around his mouth. "And for the rest of the seven hours and fifty eight minutes that I have to be there?"

Ana smiled. "I don't know. Buy Spain or something." She raised her finger. "And no, that doesn't mean you can come home with Real Madrid. One soccer team is enough!"

"You're raising your finger to me, Mrs Grey?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's up there with rolling your eyes."

Ana turned to him and put her hands on her hips. "Go to work," she enunciated. "If you're going to be this much of a pest then you're not helping us to move into our offices on Saturday."

Hannah's coffee all but came down her nose.

"But I can get drinks and help with moving heavy boxes." He flexed his bicep. Simran who was walking behind him nearly passed out.

"We have women to do that," said Ana. "Anyway, why are you not sorting your own office out?"

Christian laughed. "There's nothing in it!"

"True," she admitted and glanced at her watch. "I have a meeting in ten minutes. Much as I love you in this goofy mood, I have things to do. Now go the fuck to work, Christian."

He held up his hand. "Mrs Grey, I have a twitchy palm."

She kissed it. "Later."

Christian Grey looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

There was a strange intensity that flashed back and forth between them, as if they were passing a ball of power. It was funny and now she knew Grey's background, extremely seductive. He'd met his match and someone who could love him properly. Hannah dropped her head and smiled. He had a happy ending. She hoped that he was going to write about meeting Ana. But how could she ask him about that and how much would he reveal in the book?

**xXXx**

At Grey House surrounded by the emptiness of her office, Susannah McDowell looked out at the bright spring morning. All her things had gone to Grey Plaza, even Kelly had gone to Grey Plaza, but Susannah wanted this moment alone to say a private goodbye to a building that had occupied a special place in her heart for so many years. It was strange how concrete, glass and steel could aptly represent the way Christian Grey had once been. Grey House was uncompromising. Grey Plaza was a far more organic. Wood and soft furnishings gave a softness to it that Grey House just didn't possess. It was a reminder that things change. It was a reminder that people change. Sadly, not always for the better.

Susannah still had no idea what was getting at Scott and he was disinclined to talk. She had thought back over the last few weeks, analyzing carefully everything she could think of that might have provided the source of his irritation - she knew him well enough to diagnose that. Something she had done had not met with his approval, but he wouldn't tell her what it was – although he seemed to be punishing her for it. He spoke harshly to her, he was rough with her and was operating close to her hard limits, beyond which she would not remain in the same house as him. This wasn't about their sex life, this was about their life, period. How could she be married to a man who wouldn't tell her what was wrong? Communication was the key and Scott had picked this moment to clam up.

There was a knock at the door. Susannah turned to see Sherry Billington standing in the doorway. She looked exhausted.

"Sherry, are you OK?"

She nodded "Yes, just up most of the night, reading."

Susannah smiled. "Suffering from One More Chapter syndrome?"

"Something like that," the woman blushed.

"What can I do for you?"

"Wondered if there was a decision on Hanson, yet?"

Susannah shook her head. "No, we still have outstanding queries. I can't agree to it before those are resolved."

"OK. We're just about to leave for the Plaza."

"Yes, I'm just finishing up here and I'll see you over there this afternoon."

Sherry hesitated. "Um… Susannah?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know anything about publishing?"

"Not much."

"It's just… I have a friend who works for a publishing company but they've passed on a really great book – and I mean _really_ great. I've gotten a copy and I wondered…"

"Did the author give it to you?"

"Um… no. My friend who works for the publishing company did."

Susannah's mouth dropped open.

"Uh… I guess that isn't a good thing, right?" Sherry guessed correctly.

"No, it isn't. What the hell is your friend doing passing you someone's manuscript? How many other publishers has this author submitted it to?"

"I don't know."

"Well, just because one publisher's passed on the book doesn't mean to say that someone else won't snap it up. You tell your friend that if they're passing people's manuscripts around then they're in legal shit up to their necks."

"This is the first time."

"And it will be the last!"

"But she wants her company to publish it and they won't."

"And do you know what will and will not sell in the book industry? Don't you think that the Editor will know better than you – or your friend, for that matter? Which company is it? I need to warn them that this has happened." The woman did not reply. "Sherry, which company is it?"

Sherry shook her head, paling now. "I'd prefer not to say."

"I'd prefer that you did. How many people has she given it to?"

"Just me."

"Then get rid of it." Sherry dropped her head. "Oh, my God. You've passed it to someone. Why?" She threw her hands up into the air. "Why did you do that? That's someone's work. They own the copyright. They can sue you into oblivion."

"But it's an amazing book, it sort of… shared itself."

"What kind of stupid crap is that? Did it press the forward button by itself?"

"No, but…"

"But nothing. Tell them to delete it, right now!"

"OK. But you've got to read it!"

"I will. When it comes out legally. What's it called?"

"_White Tower_ by Blake Tyne. It's about a man called Stephen White. He's a successful property magnet who operates out of a building like this. On the face of it he has everything, but he has a dark side with all kinds of weird issues."

"If it's that good, then somebody will pick it up. But you'd better hope that Blake Tyne doesn't have me as his lawyer." Sherry nodded and turned to leave.

Susannah returned to the view out of the window, looking across to the imposing new edifice of Grey Plaza. "Successful man with a dark side…" she murmured. "Some of us have heard that one before."


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

**Saturday Morning**

Christian killed the engine on the car and watched as a few spaces down Sloan Sharp pulled into another space in the parking lot. He smiled. Thinking her last name was shark really hadn't been far off the money. Ana had laughed when he asked about the woman. She'd recently moved into the area and thought her daughter, Cassidy, was the next big thing in dance. The teacher, Madame Courel, thought otherwise. Madame was always fair, but there was no doubt in her mind that even at the tender age of three, Darcey Grey could out-dance her class and Madame's opinion must be respected. Not only because that she was a retired ballerina from the Paris Opera Ballet, amongst other companies, but Madame was also a Dominant and had been one of the first people that Christian had met when Elena had taken him to the Devil's Kitchen all those years ago. There was no way that Madame would have any truck with Ms Sharp's over-inflated opinion of her daughter's abilities. Neither was Madame good with the flaunting of standards, and as Cassidy Sharp climbed out of the rear of the car sporting pigtails Christian knew that the girl's mother would be made to correct it in a unique way. Braid and coil your daughter's long hair into a bun. What was so difficult about that?

Christian glanced in his rear view mirror. Darcey was already out of the seatbelt, while Phoebe looked like she'd been sentenced to the gallows. The agreement was that she would attend dance class until the end of the semester – which was only a few weeks away. But she was determined to show that she was attending these classes entirely under protest. With Jason and Gail away for the weekend, Elliot had volunteered to take his nephew to soccer practice. Ana was at Grey Plaza. Her staff had a long day ahead, moving into their new offices and sorting things out and she was determined to not to miss it. She'd been there every step of the way, from the paper plans, to breaking ground, topping out and the point where Christian had signed off on the Plaza. It was as much her building as it was his and they had a strong sense that they weren't just creating another skyscraper, but they were building a working home together. There was still the official opening to endure, which was happening in a few weeks' time. They'd set that for a point where everyone was in and the place had gone through a shakedown.

He and the girls walked into the dance school and Christian escorted Phoebe to her class before taking Darcey through to her room. Unlike her classmates, Darcey needed no encouragement to get her ballet slippers on and skip over to where Madame was patiently waiting for them. Darcey, in her little pink and white outfit stood in awe of Madame, who like every week was dressed in the same black calf-length practice dress, jazz shoes and with her hair anchored in the same bun. There was no variation and Christian understood the subtleties of Sandrine Courel's private life enough to know that adherence to rules, both by herself and those around her, was important. The only indication that Madame did not enjoy the flexibility of her former years came in the form of a silver-topped cane resting on the floor between her feet, which were placed in second position. Her hands rested lightly on top. She was a model of poise and control, unlike his small pink jumping-bean of a daughter in front of her.

"Good morning, Mr Grey," came the unwelcome voice of Sloan Sharp. He turned his head to see her taking a seat beside him and Cassidy eyeing him impertinently.

"Good morning," he replied.

"Is your wife away _again?_"

"No, she's at work."

"On a Saturday? You should have a word."

Sloan bent forward to help Cassidy put on her ballet shoes and the little girl's eyes never left him. He wondered whether he should tell Ms Sharp of Madame's standards, but then decided to let her find out for herself. People only learn through experience.

Christian sat back and busied himself with his emails, keeping one eye on proceedings as Cassidy Sharp ran to join the group and then Ms Sharp was beckoned forward by a long, elegant index finger. He watched as a hairbrush was smacked into the palm of Ms Sharp's hand and with the whole class watching, the red faced Sloan corrected her sartorial error. Chastened, she slunk back to her seat beside Christian and uttered not a single syllable for the next hour. At the end, Christian went over to Madame ostensibly to ask about Darcey's progress, but in reality to express his thanks to Sandrine.

She looked him straight in the eye, Dominant to Dominant. "They transgress and they learn," she said, in her heavily accented French. "She will not do it again. Ana is well, I trust? I was disappointed to see you this morning."

Christian smiled. Madame may be over seventy but it did not stop her from appreciating the form of a beautiful woman. But few could please Sandrine. She was demanding, making his contracts look like a picnic. Even Elena had spoken of her in hushed tones. Ana knew what Madame was and also knew of Sandrine's attraction to her. She took it with an unfazed smile. His virginal ingénue had become as wise and as worldly as he was. Sandrine may look all she liked but she would never touch. Rules were rules and Madame lived her life by them.

Out in the parking lot Christian buckled Darcey into the seat as he watched the still smarting Ms Sharp bundle Cassidy into the car and leave. Around her other mothers smiled. They knew the rules and they knew what Madame would do. Adherence was a small price to pay for the absence of the smack of a hairbrush. Christian wondered how Madame got away with playing out a scene in front of everybody. Nobody would know it, of course, but he did and it made him smile.

**xXXx**

**Saturday Lunchtime**

"Pizza!" called Hannah, clocking the arrival of the delivery guy on their floor. He was wheeling it in a cart. "Jesus, how much did we order?" she muttered. Ana came over.

"Fabulous, I'm starving" she said. "Did someone go out for coffee?"

"Yes, Dominic did." Hannah could barely look her in the eye, although Ana was too busy to notice.

"Good." Ana let down her hair, shook it out and scooped it up into a clip again. She was sporting a Band Aid on her finger where she'd cut herself opening a box. Her office was done and now she was out with the rest of them making sure that come Monday, they were ready to rock and roll out of their new home in Grey Plaza. Fiction now didn't have to share a floor with non-fiction, they had one each and there was room for Ana to expand her fledgling children's books department. Olaf Sørenson and accounts could finally spread out, although Olaf was doing his own personal spreading out after discovering a love of Seattle's fine dining. He was a nice guy though, if you discounted his appalling taste in jokes. He'd turned up in a suit today and the uninitiated might think that he was the person in charge, not the messy-haired woman in the ripped jeans, sneakers and ancient faded WSU sweatshirt. Ana carefully set the food out for her staff, grabbing napkins and plastic plates from a bag that she'd brought in.

Grateful for small mercies, Hannah had been glad that Ana had arrived on her own this morning and not with her husband in tow. Molly, Danielle and Simran were working close together and deep in conversation. But thankfully not one of them was glancing across at Ana. Simran may like to fantasize that Stephen White was Christian Grey, but she'd never seriously believe that it was. Who would believe that such a public person could hide a past like that? It had made Hannah both more in awe of him and more fearful of him, to know the anger that he'd channeled into control. Where was it now? Surely anger on that scale didn't just evaporate? It must have gone somewhere. Where was it being channeled to now?

The staff descended on the tables and helped themselves to pizza, perching on desks as they ate. A lull descended over them as they chewed and gazed out of the window at the fabulous view of Mount Rainier that they had at this level.

"I hope you appreciate that I had to pretty much fight Elliot for the view," said Ana. "And that man does not concede defeat easily."

"He still maintains that tickling him gave you an unfair advantage."

Hannah froze. He was here. She absolutely could not look at Christian Grey. The knowledge of what he would do to her when he knew that his confidence had been so abominably betrayed set her heartbeat to double time. She should confess and resign. That was the only honourable thing to do. And then go and find an abandoned mineshaft to hide in. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them to find Phoebe Grey peering intently at her.

"Are you sick?" she asked. As her younger sister skipped around the desks behind her, Hannah felt that the elder Miss Grey could see right into her despicable heart.

"No," she replied, somewhat breathless.

"You look sick."

Ana came over. "Phoebe's right. You look like you're coming down with something." Yes, she was. It was a terminal case of guilt. "Why don't you go home?"

Hannah shook her head. "No, I'm fine. Really." Behind Ana, Christian came into view and she hurriedly averted her gaze from him. Danielle came over.

"Come on, let's get some air," she grabbed Hannah's arm and tugged her off the desk and out of the office. At the elevator she hit the button to call it. "You need to calm the fuck down," she hissed. "It's just a story, you didn't sell secrets to the North Koreans."

"I might as well have!" she spat back.

"We read manuscripts all the time and feed the best ones to Ana. So a few of us read the same one. What's the big deal in that?"

"I should never have sent it to you. That was the biggest mistake of my life!"

"You send me fucking manuscripts every day. What's the big deal about this one – other than it being fifty shades of fantastic? I guess it's because you wanted to keep all that hot sex to yourself." Danielle grinned, but Hannah slumped. Her co-worker didn't have a clue and she couldn't explain why passing this manuscript on felt like she'd sold her soul to the devil. The door opened and to make things worse, Christian Grey himself appeared.

"Hannah, may I have a word in private, please?"

What was left of her wits ran and hid. She nodded and leaving Danielle at the opening door of the elevator, she meekly followed Christian down the hallway and into his wife's office. He left the door open and went to sit on the edge of her desk. Relaxed and casually dressed in jeans and a gray sweater, he gave no hint of the control freak he had once been. Ana had arranged a selection of family photographs on the surface of the cupboard behind her desk. Today, the smiling man in the wedding picture felt like her funeral director.

"Am I correct in concluding that your agitated state and inability to look me in the eye today are because you read my manuscript?"

She confessed with a nod.

"All of it?"

She nodded again.

"I see." There was a silence that stretched on for light years. "And this changes your opinion of me."

It was a statement that absolutely was not true. "No," she said quickly. "It doesn't."

"It doesn't change what you think of me? Oh come on, now. Surely it must?"

"No. I still have the highest regard for you, I just know things about you now that are… shocking." She scooped a lock of hair back behind her ear. "But your secret's safe with me. I won't tell anyone that it was you who wrote it. Or what happened to you." That at least was the truth, although her integrity was digging a hole to hide in.

"Thank you. Ana doesn't want to it going out in that form. It's too much of the truth and not enough is hidden behind fictional situations. She's having me make some changes."

Hannah's eyes widened. "She's taking it on?"

He gave a bemused smile. "Yes. Although I pretty much have to re-write the whole fucking thing. I'd started on book two as well."

"You had?" her eyes were wider still. "Do you and Natash…" she stopped herself.

Christian Grey raised both eyebrows. "My my, Ms Martin, you really did read to the end."

She flushed crimson and she was sure the heat from her face would give him a tan.

He gave a chuckle. "If it's any consolation, your shade is pretty much the exact opposite that Ana went when I told her the truth. But perhaps you can help me with something?"

"With what?"

"Book two's subject. Should I write about Natasha… and the others? Or should I skip all that and start writing about Ana? What do you think?"

Hannah was pretty sure she must look like a goldfish moronically opening and closing her mouth. He wanted her to tell him what to write?

"I don't know. Both?"

"_Three_ books? You think I have the fucking time to write three books? It took me nearly two years to write just one!"

"Probably best to ask Ana. She's a better judge of what sells. She's the expert. But a book about your ex-girlfriends? If it were my husband, I don't think I'd be too keen to edit that."

"They were _never_ girlfriends, let me make that crystal clear. I'm really conflicted about this. On one hand, I feel that I want to get it all out and be done with it. On the other, I just want to forget about them and fast forward to Ana. That's when things get interesting."

Hannah thought about the things she'd read him doing with Natasha. That wasn't interesting? Then what the fuckety fuck was he doing with his wife?!

"You've gone pale," he said.

"I'll say!" Hannah tried to pull it together.

He grimaced. "I'm pretty much fucked whatever I write. Write about my submissives and I risk upsetting Ana. Write about Ana and I risk upsetting her with that, too. Perhaps I shouldn't write anything?"

"No!" It was Christian's turn to be wide-eyed at her reaction. "I want there to be more," she admitted weakly.

He smiled broadly. "If I write more then I will absolutely have to write about Ana. There is no more without her." He put an odd stress on the word _more_. He stood up. "Time for me to go. I have children to entertain." He walked to the door. "I'm going to have Andrea send over a non-disclosure agreement for you to sign. I'm sorry to have to do this, Hannah, but, as you now know, there are aspects of my past that I would not want to be common knowledge." It was as if a switch had been thrown and she got a glimpse of the dispassionate man he'd once been. She nodded, unable to open her goddamn mouth and confess that it was a bit late for that. Her stress levels started to rise again. "Ana says you can be trusted, but I've always found that the chance of having your ass sued to be a more effective method of gaining people's trust." He gave a gesture of resignation. "This is my life Ms Martin and I need to protect it. Have a good weekend."

And with that he went, leaving her adjusting to the burden of her guilt.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

**Saturday Night**

It wasn't a Saturday night he'd ever expected to have again, but here he was, going in through the door of The Red Lion, an English-themed pub in the Shoreline district of north Seattle. It was packed and some distance from his and Susannah's home in Bellevue. But distance was what he needed tonight and the drive had helped to disperse the red mist.

Susannah had spent most of the day at her new office in Grey Plaza, making sure that everything was straight. She'd arrived home at the agreed time, but had immediately disappeared into an unscheduled conference call with senior board member Amos King and of course, Christian Fucking Grey. There was a potential crisis in Shanghai. There was also a potential crisis on Shoreline Drive, but Susannah seemed less concerned about that than she did by something happening on the other side of the world. They'd fought, he'd struck her and he'd left the house immediately, knowing that he needed to be anywhere else but there this evening. He'd stopped by Petra's house for consolation and a quick fuck before winding up in this bar, the first place that looked half decent off the Interstate. He looked at the selection of beers, not recognizing a single one and in seeking a recommendation from the bartender had found himself drinking something called Hobgoblin. He wondered how in God's name the English had ever managed to build an empire when this was their idea of beer? Nevertheless, he seated himself at the bar and watched the world and his wife have their Saturday night.

The voices of a particularly loud group of women attracted his attention several times. They were drinking brightly-coloured cocktails, decked out with paper umbrellas that would more than likely take someone's eye out. He sipped his beer, making the most of the single drink he'd have tonight. There were no such restrictions on the women, whose voices got louder as the interval between return visits to the bar got shorter. They came back again, the blonde and the redhead this time, watching the TV screen behind the bar as they waited to be served. It was the sports news and Scott's attention was suddenly drawn to it when a photograph of Christian Grey appeared on the screen. The caption running underneath said that Grey was rumored to be the new owner of the Seattle Sounders.

"Ugh, him again," said the blonde woman. "As if I haven't seen enough of that smug bastard's face today." The woman winced as she ran her fingers across the palm of her right hand.

"Christian Grey?" asked the other woman. "You know Christian Grey? You never told me that."

"A little, yes. His daughter attends Cassidy's ballet class. But he isn't as nice as he looks. Asshole was almost laughing when the bitch went psycho with a hairbrush." She held out her hand.

"What happened?"

"I didn't do Cassidy's hair to Madame's Nazi French standards."

"The Nazis were German, Sloan."

"Whatever. The woman's a control freak. I'm already searching for another dance school for Cassidy. I don't know how the other parents put up with her."

Scott smiled to himself. A French control freak who taught ballet? That had to be Sandrine Courel. A legend of the BDSM scene if ever there was one. Everyone knew her, but she hadn't returned after the explosion and fire that had destroyed the Devil's Kitchen. Michael Xavier had set up new premises, but Sandrine had never been seen there.

As the evening wore on, Scott kept one eye on the blonde woman and as it drew to a close, he'd amassed a sizeable chunk of information about her. She didn't seem to care who she told about her life and herself. About the only thing she hadn't told him was her inside leg measurement and how old she was. He made a guess at thirty. She'd moved back to Seattle after a decade living in Spokane. She'd split from her guy - who was something in the Police Department. A dog from what it sounded like. She'd returned to Seattle and got herself a nice little job, a nice little house and was settling into a nice little life – Dominatrix ballet teachers aside. She was looking for a man. Preferably one who knew her vulva from his uvula. Dog boy had got them badly confused. She'd caught Scott's eye once or twice during the evening and as the rest of the women drifted away, Scott seized an opportunity. He was still feeling pissed with Susannah and he needed somewhere to spend the night.

"I heard you saying that you know Christian Grey," he said as she placed the empty glasses on the bar next to him.

"A little."

"And you don't like him?" Scott finished the last sip of beer.

She shook her head. "Not really. He's arrogant."

"That he is."

"You know him?"

"A little," he watched as she put on her coat and lifted her shoulder length hair out from the collar.

"My girlfriends think he's god's gift to women, but to me he's just another S.O.B. I tried to be friendly, but I clearly don't earn enough to get the attention of Christian Grey."

"Would you want the attention of him?"

She looked him over and angled her head to one side. "No," she said with a smile. "I wouldn't mind _your_ attention, though."

Good girl, he thought to himself and got off the seat. He returned her look, taking in full breasts, a slim waist and hips that he could grab onto.

He bared his teeth in a carnal smile. "Let's see what we can do about that."

"I'm Sloan, by the way."

"Eddie," Scott replied, picking a name clean out of the air. He grabbed his jacket. "Let's go," he said and grabbed her by the arm.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

**Monday **

The sky was raining cherry blossom and the wind whipped it around the large group stood by Faye Silvestri's graveside. Adjacent to the Minister intoning the committal, her husband Rob stood with their tiny son in his arms and their daughter, Lucia, pressed into his side as she sheltered from the cold blasts coming straight off the Sound. Faye had been pregnant with their daughter when Susannah had met her for the first time, over six years ago now. The service in the chapel had been tearful and long, with many coming to the microphone to express their sadness to Rob and his family and also to share their memories of Faye, whether that be as a work colleague, a friend, a sister, an aunt, or most heart-breakingly, as a daughter. No one from the group of fourteen women who sat at the back got up to speak. What on earth could they say? Instead they remained silent and hung back, letting everyone else go ahead, following the sad procession to the location of the freshly-opened grave. Dressed in black, as were the rest of the party, they should not have stood out. But somehow they seemed to. Susannah was aware of several curious glances as they gathered around the graveside with pink flowers falling as tears for their friend. Also present, but standing at a discreet distance were Detectives Marsh and Fox. Fox looked immaculate but Detective Marsh looked like he'd slept in his suit. It was odd that they were here, but with few leads to Faye's murderer they were probably making notes of who precisely turned up to pay their respects.

As the Minister finished the committal and the group started to disperse, Leila came alongside Susannah took hold of her hand.

"That was a beautiful service," she said. "I hope people are able to say such nice things about me when it's my time."

Susannah looked at her. "I think we all do. Thank you for coming, by the way. I appreciate how far you've come."

"Why would I be anywhere else? She was one of us and I wanted to be here, to remember her and to support Rob and the family."

"Her little boy is the spit of his father."

Leila smiled. "He is, and so cute, too. Lucia's being incredibly brave, but the poor little munchkin looks frozen. I hope they… oh, there we go. Rob's Mom has scooped her up. We should step away, don't you think? Leave the family in peace."

"Yes," said Susannah and turned to mention this to the rest of their group. As she did so, she noticed a young man lowering a camera from his face. "Who's that?" she asked, pointing.

Leila looked. "No idea. He looks barely out of High School."

Susannah met the implacable gaze of the young man and he appeared to cower slightly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Detective Marsh turn to take a closer interest in him too. The photographer slunk back into the trees and much to Susannah's surprise, this didn't seem to raise Marsh's interest. Perhaps he was known to the detective?

They set off, walking in a group along the path to the exit, the cherry blossom falling at their feet and catching in the grass verge. Susannah looked back and saw that the photographer was taking yet more photographs of them. She stopped and turned around, on edge now for reasons she couldn't explain. "Who is he?" she said to no one in particular, but hoping someone would answer. A tall, grey-haired and distinguished looked gentlemen caught up to them and turned to where she was looking.

"The guy by the trees? That's Troy West. He works for the local paper."

"My husband used to be a photographer for the _Seattle Times_. There's no need for anyone to skulk about in the undergrowth as if they're some wannabe Paparazzo. Unless he's doing something he shouldn't?" Susannah raised an eyebrow.

The man laughed. "Troy's young. He's learning his craft. He's a good photographer. He did some stunning ones of Faye only a few months ago."

Bronwen North joined them. "Oh yeah, she mentioned that."

"She did?" said Susannah, surprised.

"Yes. Have you forgotten that I live in Forks now? We met up often, 'cause I need to check back in with reality as much as I can. That place is like living in the Twilight Zone."

Susannah looked back at the young man. "But why is he taking pictures of us and not everyone else?"

"Why not?" said the man. "You're a very unusual group. You look like fourteen variations of the same woman."

Susannah looked at their group. She supposed they did. All dressed in black, all with long, dark hair and all wearing gray, polished, hematite hearts around their necks.

"You're very striking," said the man, stifling some emotional difficulty. "And very like Faye."

Susannah almost smacked her head with her own stupidity. Of course people were looking at them. They were walking reminders of the person who they all had in common and the one person who wasn't here. How blind could she be?

"Are you staying for the gathering?" he asked.

"No," she replied. "We have a table booked for lunch elsewhere."

"Well, thank you for coming, today."

"It's a pleasure," although that really wasn't the right phrase. "And you are…?"

"Roger Carter," he said, extending his hand so that she could shake it. "I'm the Principal of Bremerton Elementary." It was Faye's boss. "And whom do I have the pleasure of shaking the hand of?"

"Susannah McDowell."

"And what line of work are you in, Miss McDowell?"

"Mrs," she corrected. "Legal. I'm a lawyer."

"And…um..." he tailed off. "How did you know Faye?"

"Oh…" she smiled. "Bookgroup."

Roger frowned. "Really? Faye never said that she was a keen reader."

Susannah had to admit that the bookgroup lie was tissue thin.

"Oh, she never read the book," Bronwen chimed in, saving Susannah's bacon. "She just came for the cake and the wine."

Roger smiled. "That's more like the woman I knew. Well, it's been a pleasure to meet you. I'll let you get to your lunch."

The women walked out into the parking lot and divided themselves between four red Audi's. As they pulled away, Troy West took pictures.

Tucked away on a back street in the centre of town was Bremerton's best-kept secret. A beautifully appointed restaurant that made you feel as if you'd stepped back in time to an age of elegance. It was a place that Faye herself had told them about, as Rob and she had celebrated their last wedding anniversary here. They were shown to a beautifully adorned table set with crisp white linen and polished silvery cutlery. The crystal glasses reflected the soft spring light casting tiny rainbows over the fabric. Silently, the women took their places, giving the waiter a polite thank you as he handed each of them a menu. Another waiter placed three bottles of wine and three bottles of water on the table.

"We didn't order wine," said Susannah, raising a hand to stop him.

The waiter paused. "Table in the name of McDowell? I was beside my co-worker when he took the call."

"Did anyone call ahead to order wine?" she asked and got a round of 'no's' in reply. She looked at the waiter. "There must be some mistake?"

"I'll check the message again, ma'am. Excuse me, I'll be right back."

Heather rotated the bottle around so she could see the label. "Chablis," she said. "Elegant, classic, goes with pretty much anything."

Susannah glanced out of the window and to her horror noticed that Troy West was standing across the street. "What's he doing here? Oh this is too much." She gave an irritated huff, picked up her menu and busied herself with it, interrupted a minute later by the bustle of two members of staff setting an extra place at the end of the table.

"My apologies ma'am. We didn't pick up on the addition to your party."

"Addition?" she queried.

"It was on the bottom of the wine order, we overlooked it. My apologies."

"What addition?" Leila looked at Susannah. "Who did you invite?"

"No one."

"Ma'am?" The waiter claimed her attention. "The wine order was placed in the name of Grey."

As one a stunned silence descended over the table and the women looked at each other. Eyes wide and mouths falling open. On the far side of the restaurant, Susannah caught sight of a very familiar figure walking towards their table.

"Oh my God…" gasped Leila, rising to her feet.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Around the table you could hear a feather drop and following Leila the rest of the women rose to their feet as Ana Grey approached. As she walked, the long black velvet coat billowed out like a cloak and her incredible legs were shown off by a mid-thigh black skirt, sheer tights and black patent high-heel pumps that made not a sound on the thick pile carpet. Her eyes were thickly rimmed in black kohl, giving the black moons in the centre of them all the more emphasis. There was a sexiness about her, the wind having whipped her hair into a wild mane to complete her magnificence. As she reached them the waiter pulled back the chair for her and she stood at what was now the head of the table.

She removed her coat and handed it to the waiter. "We'd appreciate some privacy before you take our order." Her voice was authoritative and without a trace of hesitation.

"Yes ma'am," he said and quickly departed.

She faced the group. Her expression was neutral as her eyes connected with each woman around the table. One by one they returned a bow of respect, as if acknowledging the High Priestess of their coven.

"I thought it was high time we met. Christian sends his regards, by the way." She looked down the table. "Susannah, the Shanghai meeting has been brought forward to three thirty and he wants you there for it. I came by helicopter and you can travel back with me."

"Yes, Ana."

Mrs Grey turned her attention to the window. "Who's the guy outside?"

"His name is Troy West," replied Susannah. "He works for the local paper."

Ana reached into her purse and drew out her phone, gave it a single touch and placed it to her ear. "Taylor, remove the photographer outside and the memory card from his camera. File a complaint with the Bremerton Journal citing harassment of Mrs Silvestri's family and friends. You may collect me from the restaurant at two thirty and Mrs McDowell will be accompanying me back to the Plaza. Make arrangements to retrieve her car."

Ana Grey was manifesting the cool, authoritative detachment of husband. Susannah wanted to smile, but she knew she mustn't. An air of familiarity had settled over the table and each woman knew what was expected and responded with her submission.

"Sit down, please," said Ana and as one the group took their seats. "Please help yourselves to wine or water, I chose the Chablis. It's one from a particularly good vineyard." The women all poured a medium-sized glass of wine and an accompanying glass of water to go with it. Erin, seated to the right of Mrs Grey poured for her and when all had a glass in front of them, Ana raised hers. "To Faye," she said simply and the women raised their glasses to acknowledge the loss of their departed friend. Ana took a sip and placed her glass down. She rested her hands lightly on the arms of her chair. "We need to talk about Christian," she said. "Or rather, I'm going to talk about Christian and you're going to listen."

**xXXx**

On the other side of the Puget Sound, Christian Grey paced back and forth; angry, anxious and more than a little aroused. Even after all this time, Ana could easily re-activate the hard-wired connection to the part of him that didn't react well to people operating outside his control. But, where she'd once have done whatever she wanted and ignored his concerns, these days she knew how to deal with him. They had discussed it at length last night. She'd told him precisely what she wanted to do today and he'd agreed to it – emphasis on the _agreed to it_, he reminded himself. Nevertheless, it still played straight into the hands of the control freak within and also went straight to his groin. Why did Ana taking control turn him on so much? He wanted to pilot the helicopter, but she politely declined, having already engaged Stephan. He wanted to come with her, an idea that was immediately scuppered by King demanding that the meeting happened today and not on Thursday. The more she countered his every concern made him want her all the more and last night had definitely been one for locking the bedroom door on. He still wanted her now – even more so because he couldn't get to her. When she got back it would be all he could do not to escort her into his private lounge and hold her, spank her and fuck her. She maddened him, frightened him and excited him all at once. It was a heady fire that only she could set alight and only she could extinguish.

She'd teased him with an eye roll when he'd insisted that it was a job for Taylor and Sawyer. She'd roll them again if she could see him now, wearing a rut into the new carpet, but it was hard to break the habit of a lifetime. He could imagine what she'd say, going over it once again for the benefit of pathologically over-anxious husbands. He was particular about who went with her. Ditching the new guy, Kennedy and pulling Jason Taylor out of semi-retirement and Luke Sawyer out from behind his desk four floors below, wasn't just about concerns for his wife's safety, it was also about damage limitation. There was no need for Kennedy to be left with awkward questions about the who and why of this particular encounter. It was best handled by those who didn't need it explained to them. There was a knock on the door and Andrea walked in carrying a thick file of papers.

"Here's the original Shanghai paperwork," she said. "Sorry for the delay, archive have new staff and they're not exactly up to speed, yet. I had to blow the dust off, this hasn't been touched since 2008." She placed it on his desk.

"Thank you," he said. His uncharacteristically muted tone made her look at him, eyes slightly narrowed in that way his Mom used when she was trying to diagnose an illness just by peering at him. It made him smirk.

"Are you OK?"

"Yes."

Andrea's eyes narrowed further. She was Mom to a six year old, so of course she could tell when someone wasn't being entirely truthful with her. His shoulders dropped.

"No," he admitted.

"Jason called as you asked him to and let you know that everything's fine," she said in a slightly sing-song 'don't be a wuss' tone. "Why are you worrying?" Andrea didn't know who Ana was meeting and what she was saying to them, _that's_ why he was worrying. Was it psychosomatic or were his ears really burning? He reached up to feel one. Yes, it was warm. "She's only gone to Bremerton, she'll be back at three." His office line rang and Andrea answered, switching into her extremely formal tone. She placed it on mute and held the receiver out to him. "King."

Anxiety gave way to irritation. Amos King, a major GEH stock holder, had been a recent appointment to the board. He may have come with an impeccable set of business credentials and a bottomless bank account, but knowing someone via statistics on a sheet of paper was very different from actually working with them. Christian was beginning to wonder how King had amassed such a fortune when his ideas seem to be Fed-Ex'd straight from Fantasy Land. He look the phone from Andrea.

"Grey," he said tersely, turning back to the window and looking out over his new view of Seattle. "I've just got it," he said. "It took a while to get it from the archives." A comment down the line made him grimace. "Of course…" he turned back to his desk, picked up the file and handed it back to Andrea. "See you at three thirty." He ended the call and slammed the phone down. "He wants eight copies of the lot, plus scan and email to each attendee."

"Yes, sir," she said without a bat of an eyelid. She may be bringing her Mommy skills to work these days, but when he needed her, even to service the whims of an asshole like King, she never let him down. Andrea headed for the door.

"And get Luke to call me."

She turned back. "Luke? Not Jason?"

"Yes, Luke. This isn't about Ana. This is about King."

Christian sat in his chair, his worries over Ana pushed to the side by the newest board member breathing down his neck. Shanghai hadn't been a problem until King started poking about. He'd even managed to make GEH's Director of Operations for Southeast Asia, Huang Meien, lose her cool and the woman was unflappable. What was he up to? Was he trying to find an uncrossed 't' or an undotted 'i,' somewhere? Whatever he was up to, King and Grey were on a collision course.

**xXXx**

Grateful for the advice of those who'd been in the profession a long time, Troy West returned to a hole in a tree in the cemetery and retrieved a memory card encased in a little waterproof shell. So his camera and a few pictures had been taken from him, it was no big deal. It wasn't even his main camera and he still had the majority of the pictures. Today had started out by him being there to mourn Faye, but within seconds of catching sight of this coven of other women, it had changed into something wholly different. Exciting and… He didn't want to dwell on that, just now. His interest in the women had escalated when the two men had confiscated his stuff. Especially when another one appeared, arriving at the restaurant in much the same way as the Queen of Sheba might and without so much as a glance in his direction. But she was the easiest to identify. That was Anastasia Grey and he'd already collected her for his gallery.

How fortunate for him that Bremerton was such a small town and when he needed a new set of staff photos taking, Roger Carter, the Principal of Bremerton Elementary, had called in the services of Troy. Amongst the florid and the fusty was the beautiful and elegant creature of Faye Silvestri. Slim, sensuous and with a mouth that Troy had wanted to kiss. He'd ached to kiss it, fantasized about kissing it, even. He closed his eyes and let his imagination play out, opening them to the slightly curved mound of fresh earth over her grave. He bit his own lip hard enough to draw blood. He would kiss those lips no more, even in his dreams. He tossed the little plastic box up into the air and caught it again. But now there were plenty of other pairs of lips for him to try.

**xXXx**

The meal was drawing to a close and much had been said in explanation. Had they all taken a guess before Ana Grey had joined them at lunch, at why she was here, bringing news of this would not have featured on their list.

Ana placed her knife and fork down on the plate. "So, do I have your agreement?"

Around the table, the women looked away from Ana, glanced at each other and then moved their attention to Susannah, conveying their decisions in an unspoken look to their designated spokesperson.

"Yes. You have our agreement. We'll help him."

"Me," said Ana. "You'll be helping me. Christian will write his bit and you and I will work together to get your sides of the story. Everything will go through me and there will be no need to contact him directly."

Janey leaned forward. "May I ask when the first book is coming out, please?"

"Not for a while," replied Ana. "And it certainly won't be under his name. I need him to make a lot of changes. It wouldn't usually be a failing, but he writes too honestly and there is strength in allowing the reader space to imagine."

"And book three?" asked Heather.

"Will be about meeting me and the whole can of worms that opened for him," she flashed a grin. "I'm almost tempted to write that one, myself."

"You should," said Erin. "Write about what it felt like as an outsider coming into the scene."

Ana shook her head. "I am not in that world and I never was. I can't write about something that I didn't properly experience. It would be wrong and you'd be able to spot a fake at fifty yards."

"I am confused why he would do this when he went to so much effort to secure his privacy?" Susannah knew that Janey was speaking for all of them on this.

"He's found it an extremely helpful way of dealing with the past."

"To bring light into the darkness?" Leila's voice was quiet but perfectly audible.

"Yes. Master was very dark." There was a moment's pause and then Ana glanced at her watch. "My apologies, but I have to leave. Thank you, all of you. This was…good… I think. Meeting you, I mean."

"It's an honour," said Carly. "I see why he married you. You're very much his equal." She raised her glass. "To Christian and Ana." The rest of the women followed suit.

As the two women left the restaurant, Susannah didn't notice Roger Carter keeping a studious eye on them from another corner.

In the silence of the car as they were returning to the helicopter, Susannah found herself staring out of the window, contemplating exactly why Christian Grey had decided to ignore his own personal non-disclosure agreement. "Has something happened?" she blurted out.

Pulled from her own musings, Ana turned to her, eyes giving her their answer before she spoke. "No. Like what?"

"This is very unlike him. Why would he choose to do this?"

"He was told that writing was helpful and he found writing it as fiction to be the thing that made it easier."

"But we both know that the man had his entire life locked down. He barely wrote a grocery list without it requiring an NDA."

"Christian has never written a grocery list."

Susannah furrowed her brow. "He hasn't?"

"No. Rich kid, remember?" Ana chuckled. "Carrick and Grace had a housekeeper from early on. But that's interesting and not something I'd thought about. He told me that he'd been invited to write about the past, but we didn't talk about why it had been suggested that he do it in the first place." Ana's face darkened as they pulled onto the strip where the white and blue helicopter of GEH waited for them. "I'll ask him."

**xXXx**

In his office Christian stood by the window giving himself a crick in his neck as he tried to peer down into the street below. Behind him, Andrea was setting out the large table for the meeting; putting out water, glasses and a freshly copied and bound file of papers in each person's place. On the side Olivia refilled the coffee and set out a selection of cookies. Ana had texted him when they landed, but it seemed to be taking an age for her to get back to Grey Plaza. It was already three fifteen and he wanted some time with her before the meeting started. Quite what he'd do in those few minutes he didn't know, but he needed to touch her, that was a given. He needed to feel her skin under his hands and if there wasn't time for anything else, touch would have to do. He jammed his hands in his pockets. At this height every vehicle in the street below looked like a black Audi. He should get some kind of design painted on his so he could pick them out of the traffic. "Where the fuck is she? She could walk back quicker."

Olivia went outside and returned. "They're arriving, should I show them in?"

Christian walked from the window to his desk. "No." He checked his phone. There was still nothing from Ana. He messaged her to ask where she was. He couldn't go for an entire hour and a half without her. Fuck, he was consumed by her, it was like the early days again. He pulled his own things together, placing them at the head of the desk and stared balefully at the screen of his phone. His watch moved on through twenty past, and then just two seconds away from it reaching twenty five past three his office door opened.

She held up her phone. "I'm here."

Christian Grey looked at the wild-haired vixen that stood before him. That was not the outfit she'd been wearing when they left home this morning. But that wasn't what he was reacting to. Whatever she was emitting was pure, unadulterated power and there was no way this was going to be confined to touch, he had to have her. Now.

Ana's arrival was the cue for Olivia and Andrea to leave.

Christian strode over, grabbed Ana's hand and pulled her into the lounge and bathroom to the side. He shut the door and locked it, launching himself at her and pushing her back against the wood as he kissed her. He grabbed her wrists in one hand pulling them over her head and with the other reached down to push her skirt up. She wriggled free with a gasp.

"No, there's not time."

"We'll be quick," he panted.

"No!" They tussled and he released briefly, before pulling her to him and placing a hand on the back of her neck to keep her level with him.

"Ana, what is this?" he whispered.

"You like?" the salacious, carnal smile she gave him made that part of him that was inconveniently wasted in getting hard, harder still.

"Oh yes," he moaned.

A steeliness took up residence in her eye. "Good. But you'll have to wait. Drop your pants."

"What?" Christian stared at her.

"Drop your pants," she repeated.

He hesitated and then reaching for his waistband undid the button and fly. Ana took over, pushing the fabric down his legs and crouching down. He smiled briefly, thinking he knew what was coming, until the moment she produced a gleaming pair of silver scissors and cut quickly up the side of his shorts.

"What the…"

She did the same up the other side and pulled the fabric through his legs, balling it up and stuffing it into her pocket. She placed the lightest of kisses on the end of him before lifting his pants back into place and securing them around his hips. "Come and find me when your meeting's finished," she purred, planting a kiss on his lips. "See you later."

She unlocked the door and left him standing, open-mouthed, almost ready to combust and more in love with the woman than ever. He remembered something and dashed out after her, the strange alien short-less feeling in his pants causing all sorts of sensations that really weren't helpful prior to a serious meeting. She was at the door. "Ana, how did it go?"

She smiled "Putty in my hands."

He snickered. "Just as I am."

"You'd better believe it, commando boy."

"And you. Perhaps you should leave me your panties?"

"Nuh uh," she said twisting the door knob. "I have a meeting."

"And I don't?" She gave no reply, but pulled the door open and strode out, telling his staff that he was ready and to go in. "Maddeningly delicious woman," he groaned, sliding his hands in his pockets and finding something in there. He pulled it out. It was a cable tie. Wild thoughts blossomed in his head. "Game on, Mrs Grey," he muttered.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Ana threw herself into the elevator and pressed for Grey Publishing ten floors below. She laughed with relief. She was almost drunk on what she'd achieved and by her own admission, ending it by giving Christian the go ahead to play when he caught up with her was at once a masterclass in distraction tactics and also a really bad idea. Her husband was a black belt in utilizing what was around him for their sexual gratification. And she'd just cut off his underpants and left him with an entire skyscraper to use in retribution. That was just asking for trouble and she loved her husband's very singular brand of trouble.

Laughter gave way to contemplation as she thought back through the afternoon. She had always been the spider on the edge of the web, waiting to pounce if things got out of hand with the women, but they never had done. Susannah had laid down the rules and they'd adhered to them – save for whatever hell thing that was in Christian's new shower. She always knew that one day she'd probably meet another one of his former subs, but to voluntarily walk straight into the heart of all of them had been something she had done only for Christian's greater good. Far better they were on the same side and far better that she had control of it. She had placed only one request at his feet and wished that he had told her about the book sooner, because it would have been the first thing out of her mouth. She asked him to re-start his sessions with John Flynn. She didn't want things from his past coming to the surface and for him to be unable to deal with them.

Ana thought about the fourteen women who had sat around the table. Seen together they were an alarming sight. How similar they looked to one another and how similar they all looked to his birth mother had never been more graphically reinforced to her than at that moment. It was a sobering reminder of the pain he'd once tried to deal with by himself and had stirred her resolve to help him make peace with his past once and for all. There was no doubt that the Christian Grey who'd tried to line her up as the sixteenth member of this very strange group, had once been in a very dark place indeed.

It had been a lovely lunch, all things considered. The food had been wonderful, the company, once they had moved past the awkwardness of first meeting had settled into friendly chatter, if a little on the polite side and studiously avoiding the subject of Christian. He'd been the elephant in the room and they'd talked about everyone's partners but hers.

Ana stepped out of the elevator onto the floor of Grey Publishing's senior staff. Walking through the reception area to her office, Hannah was looking pale.

"Hannah?"

"Um… She's here again."

"Who is?"

"The scary French woman."

Ana smiled. There was really no need for her to have dropped by, again, but after this morning, she should have expected it.

She had wanted to walk into that restaurant in the most confident way she could, conveying the attitude that there was either co-operation with the Greys or no deal. While she'd been lying awake in the early hours, watching Christian sleeping beside her, Ana's thoughts had turned to how he acted as a Dominant, manifesting that subtle change in his demeanor. Not wanting 'How to be a Dominatrix' to be the topic of discussion around the family breakfast table, her thoughts pointed her in the direction of the obvious person who could give her advice. If there was any woman who could tell her how to be one, it was Sandrine Courel, herself. There was another woman, but Ana did not wish to renew acquaintances with Elena Lincoln.

She'd called Madame, who had quickly agreed to help her and by the end of the scheduled time, Ana Grey not only had had a whole new way of presenting herself, but also a few tips on how to possibly help Christian. He would let her do things to him, but she could never successfully get him to yield fully to her. He always made her feel safe and so she gave him every bit of herself, without question. If she tried to be in charge, she always felt that he had one eye open; watching her, correcting her or dealing with baggage from the past. If what he'd written had been truly how it was with Elena, then there was no wonder he had a hard time getting over the baggage. But Madame had addressed it differently and switched it around so that Ana was the one who needed to develop the confidence. Madame surmised that if Ana demonstrated that she was confident in herself then Christian would relax more. As for the small matter of the women, Sandrine asked Ana what made her feel sexy and then made her go home and change into that outfit before she left for the restaurant.

Ana entered her office and Sandrine was looking at the selection of Grey Publishing's recent titles that Ana kept out on display. Madame's chin rose slightly as she looked Ana over.

"You are wasted on men," she said.

"Madame."

She smiled. "I know, I know, you are happily married with four adorable children and you have told me that Christian meets all your needs."

"Meets all my needs?" Ana laughed. "You make him sound like a reasonably-priced car."

Madame smiled. "Can I not tempt you?"

"I'm flattered, but no. To what do I owe the pleasure of a second visit?"

"I was just concerned. To make sure that you're OK and that whatever it is that've you've done today – which you annoyingly didn't tell me about, was achieved to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, thank you. And thank you for your help."

There was a silence between them.

"So you're not going to tell me?"

"No."

"But you wanted me to help you have the confidence of a Dominatrix?"

"I did, yes."

"And Christian is OK with this?"

"He knew where I was going and what I was doing. He didn't quite bargain on the manner I did it in, but I think he approved."

"Dressed like that? No wonder. I'm sure he can't wait to get you home."

"If we make it home." Ana met Madame's eye unwaveringly.

"Oh Ana…" Madame sighed. "Such a loss to us." She walked over to Ana, took her hands in hers and lightly kissed each cheek. "I will see you on Saturday, yes? Make an old lady happy and wear this outfit again, oui?"

Ana smiled as Madame left.

**xXXx**

On the thirtieth floor, Christian Grey was doing a mighty fine job of keeping a lid on his anger. Only years of control could have enabled this. Amos King appeared to be going through the contracts for the Chinese workforce set up when Christian bought up a shipbuilding company in 2008, pointing out the millions that GEH had overpaid them. Rewarding his workforce fairly was something he was quite happy to be accused of, but having his time wasted in this manner was beyond the pale.

"When you floated GEH on the stockmarket in 2016, things like this should have been brought to light for the notice of future investors. GEH is not a profitable concern in that part of the world if you are going to pay your workforce over the odds. I am on this board to see fair play, that's what all my years of experience have ensured in all the companies I've been involved with. You cannot remain competitive with salaries at this rate. I demand that you reduce wages over there by thirty, perhaps forty percent." King sat back, although there really wasn't much difference between sitting back and him sitting upright. His stomach seemed to comprise most of him and the space needed between the chair and the desk was triple what anybody else needed. He was a gnarly Walrus of a man, with a complexion that bore all the hints of one too many glasses of Bourbon of an evening. Across the table Huang Meien folded her hands together and rested her elbows on the table.

"And overnight we will find ourselves with employee retention problems and legal action. Being an Iowa native, perhaps you're unfamiliar with the very strong part that company loyalty plays in the Chinese culture. Work for a good employer and your prospects go up socially. If GEH starts re-negotiating the workforce's terms and conditions at this juncture, we will find ourselves in deep water very quickly. We are not a company that builds ships for fifty bucks on the cheap. We may have lost out to other yards once or twice, but you look at the number of repeat orders we get and you can tell who values us and who doesn't. Three ships for Maersk ordered just this week and the Danes don't do business with just anybody, Mr King. How many is that for Maersk, now Christian?"

"Since 2008, fifteen ships across three yards. That's a lot of business."

"It would be more if you didn't pay these people in gold." King banged on the desk with his fist.

"I don't believe it would," said Christian. "Maersk have only built twenty ships since 2007 and the other five went to Daewoo because they were over 1500ft long and they have the largest yards."

"And why don't we have the largest yards?"

Huang Meien's face had 'for fuck's sake' written all over it, even if the words didn't come out. Beside her, Susannah McDowell's eyebrows had disappeared under her bangs.

"Because Daewoo are good, healthy competition for GEH," said Christian. This was Business and Economics 101. What the fuck was the guy reading while the rest of them were digesting the _Wall Street Journal_ \- the _National Enquirer_?

Amos King gave a noise that sounded like an actual _harrumph_ and turned his small, piggy face back to Christian. "You still pay them too much."

Christian glanced at the clock on the wall. He'd given the man fifty five minutes of his time and that was more than enough to be given a lecture on the profitability of a company that he'd build from scratch, expanded, floated and taken into Grey Plaza. King's time was up and Christian had more important things to do. Namely, getting back at his wife for stealing his shorts. She'd actually done that to him? He bit back a smirk but it vanished entirely when King glared at him. The guy looked like he'd never been out of America in his life. Perhaps it was time that King went to China to see for himself.

"Perhaps you should go to Shanghai?"

"I see no need for that. Wang can do it."

"Huang," said Christian pronouncing it correctly. And she's Malaysian, so her last name comes first. Her name's Meien." There was a reddening in King's cheeks. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss about Shanghai, or are we done, here?" Christian laced his tone with bite.

King picked up the document of papers. "Now that I have the file I'll be able to consider it properly."

"I really don't see what your problem is," said Meien. "Everything is above board, the yards are profitable, the workforce is at full strength and we enjoy a good relationship with the local community. What's your problem?"

"My problem, ma'am is wastage. Trimming the fat."

This was ironic given the size of him.

"We need our fat trimmed?" The fifty-something petite Mayalsian woman who kept herself fit and healthy looked genuinely perplexed.

"Yes we do. We can't be an effective company if we're carrying fat. I will be going through every area we operate in and making suggestions about how we can slim down."

"Sounds good," said Christian, noticing the averted eyes from the six other people around the table who were trying not to laugh. He got up from his seat. "I'm all for trimming the fat," he slapped his lean stomach. "I look forward to reading your report. Excuse me, I have an appointment with my Personal Trainer." Tom Clark, seated at the other end of the table, bit his knuckle.

Christian swept out of his office and into the spacious area where Andrea and Olivia now worked. He'd nicknamed it the Jungle, because his assistants were flanked by four enormous potted palms.

He went over to Olivia. "Maintenance is on the first floor, yes?"

"Yes. What do you need doing? I'll take care of it, Mr Grey."

"No it's OK, I'd like to do it. Familiarise myself with the place."

He walked to the elevator and got in, singing quietly to himself.

"Oh God, said Andrea with a grimace. "He's got that look on his face and he's singing. Somebody's going to get it."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

The elevator doors closed and Christian Grey took up residence in the corner of it, arms stretched out wide and hands holding onto the chrome rail that ran around the interior of it. As it descended he sung the lyrics to Robert Palmer's song _Addicted to Love_ to himself, his mind flashing back to seeing the striking video on MTV when he was growing up. At that point in his life he never imagined that he might describe himself as addicted to love, but here he was, plotting a scene with his wife as payback for her stealing his underwear. He laughed. What had gotten into her today? It was like she was on fire and Christian wanted to get burned. But first he needed to make a short detour.

Stopping at the twenty-sixth floor, he got out and walked a short way down the hallway to where one of his longest-serving staff members sat, or more correctly, glowered from behind a desk. Nobody messed with Marie Osbourne, not even Christian Grey. She had been one of his first recruits. While his cold, steely demeanour in his early twenties may have intimidated younger people, it barely managed a glancing blow off the carapace of Mrs Osbourne. She had never served as Christian's PA, mainly because she made him feel extremely uncomfortable. Compared to what life had dealt Christian Grey in his early years, it had served up a far worse slice to Marie Osborne and she'd kept right on going, without - he assumed - ending up in a backwater of unhealthy relationships. He'd felt himself to be a lesser human around the strength of Marie. Today, however, no bravery was called for, she was merely doing what she did so well and acting as the gatekeeper for GEH's Head of Security, Luke Sawyer. She showed Christian into the office and Luke, still impressively muscled, rose to his feet as he entered. Christian looked around the new office. There were more palm trees in here.

"I really don't remember signing off on all this foliage."

"I think it's designed to make us feel more at one with nature," said Luke, joining in with his boss's contemplation of the tree. "But I've asked for it to be removed. We brought Charlie in at the weekend and he scooped out all the dirt."

Christian smiled and looked over to the line of photographs on Sawyer's desk, spying a new one of Andrea and their two children. Charlie was a little younger than Darcey and as much a scamp as she was. Their children played together and Luke and Andrea had made the transition into good friends.

"So what can I do for you?" Sawyer straightened up, aware now that this was a working day and that Christian really wouldn't have much time on his hands.

"King," he said, getting straight to the point. "Did I have some kind of mental absence when I said yes to his appointment?" Luke didn't reply but his expression conveyed amusement. "We did check him out, yes?"

"Of course. We vetted him completely. Do you want to see the file?"

"No. But remind me to add a new criteria to the checklist. We need to research the asshole quotient in people. He's off the fucking scale."

Luke knew Christian well. "You don't like him?"

"Nope."

"Want me to dig a little deeper?"

"Please. I have no fucking idea what I was thinking on this one. When I had the vasectomy after William was born, perhaps they cut the wrong thing?"

"Well, Andrea's always accusing me of thinking with my dick, so perhaps there's something in that after all." The two men laughed. "I'll have a look, see what I can find." He added.

"Thanks Luke." Christian clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Gotta run. Got a hot date."

"With Ana?"

"With Maintenance."

Luke's eyes bugged slightly. "Whatever floats your boat."

Reaching the first floor, Christian made his way to the back of the building and found the wiry-haired Eric Kohlenberger, the Head of Maintenance. He came in saying that he had a few minutes and wanted to be given a demonstration of the impressive climate control system. The man was in his element demonstrating his shiny new toy to the boss. He'd transferred from Grey House and sat behind a computer that looked as if its last job was flying the USS Enterprise.

"This doesn't just control the temperature on each floor," he said. "You can set it room by room and keep the empty ones at a constant minimum until they're needed. Also, you can set limits to stop the crafty ones from turning the heat up too much. That's the real beauty of this system, we have complete control over everything from here. We can punch in a room number and increase or reduce the temperature instantly to keep a comfortable working environment. It responds to the outside temperature, too, notching the heat up on colder days, and taking it down on warmer days when the heat from the sun is doing more to warm the offices. Let me show you." Eric demonstrated the system using Christian's own office. "We just punch in your office number. Tower one, so that's a one, then floor thirty, so three zero, followed by the room number on the floor and you're in room 1. Eric keyed in 1-3-0-0-1. He eased the temperature a little higher. "There we go, I've just increased your office temperate by five degrees and I can reduce it straight back again," he said, proudly demonstrating the system. "Want to have a go?"

"Sure, said Christian. "How about we do my brother's office?"

"Go ahead."

"He's tower three," said Christian. "Floor fifteen, room one, I guess."

Eric checked. "Yes he is."

Christian keyed 3-1-5-0-1 into the console and reduced the heat by ten degrees. "How long will it take before he starts to notice?"

"Twenty minutes," said Eric with authority. Christian restored it to the original level. "And that's all there is to it. You're now fully trained on the system, sir."

"Great, do I get a certificate?"

"Ah… no. But I can award you a set of GEH Maintenance coveralls and a cap and make you an honorary member of our team?"

"That would be _perfect,_" he grinned.

"I'll go and get them for you. I guess you're a medium."

"I'll take a large," said Christian and as Eric left the room he keyed in 2-2-0-0-1 and pushed the setting as high as it would go. "Let's see if you can take the heat, Mrs Grey," he muttered.

**xXXx**

She was uncomfortably warm, the air felt thick, and in her office, Ana Grey was beginning to feel drowsy. She hoped she wasn't coming down with the flu. With a packed schedule for the rest of the week she could ill afford time off right now. There was a knock on the door and Hannah came in.

"Ana… oh, wow, it really has gone haywire in here. Maintenance just called. There's a problem with a control circuit in here. They're sending someone up to look at it, but there will be a little delay because he's got several more to fix as well and he's working his way up the floors. He'll be with you in about a half hour. I said I'd leave the door open, but he said to keep it closed because it will mess the with climate control in other parts of the floor."

Ana exhaled with relief. "Phew, I thought it was me coming down with something. Well, I guess I can cope with working in a sauna until he arrives. Although I might be working in my underwear by then. Good job it's not Christian's office that's affected."

"Why?"

"Oh nothing," she sniggered.

Hannah closed the door and feeling uncomfortable Ana stood up and slipped off her tights, feeling instantly a little cooler. She opened a couple more buttons on her shirt and pulled at it, wishing she'd kept her bra on and not changed into a basque. But the tight lacing did wonders for her figure and knowing that it made her look good had given her confidence to walk into the restaurant with the women. She grabbed a clip and pinned up her hair feeling the relief from the air reaching the back of her neck. She sat back down and tried to work, glancing at the clock frequently. Christian hadn't called, or arrived, so he must still be in his meeting. She messaged him and received an answer in the affirmative, along with a cheeky wink that he would be down to pinch her panties as soon as he could. She smiled and the anticipation of him made her feel all the hotter.

**xXXx**

The gift of the maintenance uniform had been an unexpected coup. He'd planned to merely turn up at her office and take advantage of his hot wife, but being able to do it in costume made it all the more special. It had been far too long since he'd worked out a scene for Ana and even with King annoying the hell out of him, part of his brain had managed to work on what was coming after this gigantic waste of his time. Christian couldn't go straight to Ana's office, he needed to give her time to warm up and also, he needed a few supplies from his secret store. Thankfully, Andrea had no idea that money and valuable jewels were not what he kept in the small toolbox in his office safe.

Returning to where he'd stashed the coveralls one floor below, Christian undressed and put them on. They were dark gray with the GEH logo in light blue on the right breast pocket. He was naked underneath. He covered his hair with the cap, pulling it down low over his eyes and rendering himself unrecognizable. Leaving his suit, shirt and tie he picked up the little toolkit, got in the elevator and hit the button for the twentieth floor. Two floors down and the elevator took on three women from accounts. Standing in front of their boss, oblivious to who he was, they chatted loudly about things they never would have if they'd been in the elevator with Mr Grey.

"I got it from Sherry in Legal. Oh my God it's just incredible. I was up all night, I just couldn't put it down. It's the hottest fucking thing I've ever read and I'm completely obsessed by the guy. I'll email it to you both." The doors opened again and the women got out. Christian carried on down to floor twenty wondering if anyone would ever get excited about something he'd written?

**xXXx**

It had just gone five o'clock as Christian, disguised as the maintenance man arrived at floor twenty and crossed with Hannah and many other staff from Grey Publishing leaving for the day.

"Mrs Grey's in her office, she said as she passed, not really looking at him. "She's expecting you. Just knock."

He watched the elevator whisk Hannah away and then set off down the hallway to Ana's office. "Oh, I bet she is," he smiled.

At her door Christian paused and went through the scene, going over in his mind what he would do, what he would say and anticipating Ana's reactions. The thought of them was enough to stir his body to life beneath the gray fabric. He tried to calm himself. He didn't want Ana to realise that it was him until he had her precisely where he wanted her. Christian straightened up, cleared his throat and knocked.

"Come in," he heard her say and he opened the door. The room was stifling and the heat of it almost took his breath away. Ana was sat at her desk, pen in hand.

"Excuse me Mrs Grey," he said, trying to disguise his voice.

"Come in. The panel's right over there," she said pointing to where the cabling conduit was. "I hope you can get this fixed."

"Yes ma'am. It's a faulty solenoid that isn't switching off. I just need to replace it." He quickly locked the door and went to the place behind her, placing his tool box slightly out of sight as he removed the only genuine tool from it – a screwdriver – to undo the panel. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at Ana, taking in the beautiful skin of her neck that was glowing with perspiration. His eyes made their way to where her shirt buttons were open enough to give him an eyeful of what her shirt contained, catching sight of black lace cupping her breasts. That would need to be dealt with. Those breasts were his alone to feast on and if he was just any GEH maintenance person then he would be seeing far too much of his boss's sexy wife.

Removing the panel he placed it safely to the side and looked at the anchor points the pipework gave him. He removed a couple of items from the tool box and slid them into his pockets. Reaching up he clipped a hook into place and then unscrewed an insignificant bit of something from the system.

"Just need to put the new one in now," he said. "I'll be out of the way in a few minutes." He pretended to place the new solenoid in place and then intentionally dropped it. He picked it up, placed it in and dropped it again. He repeated it a third time. "Excuse me Mrs Grey? Would you be able to hold it in place whilst I screw it down, please?"

"Sure," said Ana, putting her pen down and rising from her seat.

Her open shirt revealed that she was wearing a basque and her legs were free of the tights he had seen her in earlier, but she was still in her heels. He allowed his body to respond to the sight of her, noting the damp tendrils of hair that draped around her neck as she stood close to him. Taking one step back and unseen by Ana, he dropped the maintenance man guise, became her husband again and as she reached up to hold the small square piece of the circuit into place, his hands followed hers with cuffs that he quickly snapped round her wrists and clipped into the hook. He heard her gasp as he spun her around putting a twist in the chain between the cuffs so that her arms were securely anchored above her. Their eyes met.

"You look hot, Mrs Grey."

"Christian!" she exclaimed, her expression registering both excitement and relief. As she took him in, her eyes challenged him, sparkling brightly with delicious wickedness. The atmosphere between them changed as they soaked in the sight of the other one and allowed it to manifest in their bodies. Ana's eyes did not avert from his, and he watched as the sparkles caught light and transformed into the white hot glow of desire. Her eyes told him how she was reacting and he was glad that hers were the only eyes he'd ever looked deeply into. They really were the windows to all of her. But those weren't the only windows, and moving to her desk he brought up her control screen and activated the blinds to close, casting the room in a sultry early evening glow. He stood in front of her again and angled his head to one side. "You've been stealing, Mrs Grey and I aim to make you pay for that." His eyes followed a bead of moisture trickling down her neck. "In sweat."

Her lips parted and he closed in to kiss her, cupping her face and feeling her respond under his lips. These were not his old scenes, they were new, more organic ones, based on love and knowing each other's likes and dislikes so well. Yes there was an element of the old, but every time of play was bookended by love. It was still exciting and nothing more so than getting to 'christen' their new building by making love in it.

Still kissing her he pulled her shirt from her waistband, unbuttoning it and scooping it behind her, tying the fabric into a knot. He broke away looking down as he traced the arc of fabric over her breasts with his fingertips, bending suddenly to lick the bead of moisture as it reached the deep cleft of her cleavage. Ana gave a little sigh of pleasure and he stayed there, responding to her cue as he pulled down the left cup, to expose her breast. He circled the nipple with his tongue and then continued with his fingers, making gentle circles around the most sensitive area, watching as his coaxing changed the shape of it. He made eye contact with her and kissed her lips again before returning to her breast.

Little more than five minutes later and Ana wasn't the only one who was sweating and gasping in the heat. He was starting to feel it. Both breasts exposed now he slid her skirt down to reveal underwear that was still very much in place. Unlike his.

"Oh no, Mrs Grey, this will not do," he said, pulling them down her legs and working them carefully over the stiletto shoes. He held the scrap of black lace up in front of her as he reduced them into ball and held it in front of her mouth. She obediently opened as he pushed the fabric in. He kissed her lips gently and then knelt in front of her. Removing her shoes, he heard the muffled moan as the few inches extra stretch pulled her body taut. He eased her feet apart and sliding his hands all the way up her legs met them at the top with his mouth, flicking his tongue over her and ignoring the muffled protestations as he worked her to the edge of her tipping point.

He knew she was tiring and removing the fabric from her mouth, releasing the hook and the cuffs, pulled her into an embrace. Her hands did not remain still though, going for the poppers on his coveralls. Ana undid them one by one, getting to the end and taking a look at what the last one uncovered. She looked back up at him with eyes of delight.

"Want," she moaned.

"Do you now? Well, you can't have."

The look of shocked indignation that Ana had been denied what she wanted was pure Darcey. And then he needed no further explanation as to where their daughter was getting her stubbornness from, when Ana dropped to her knees and took what she wanted, anyway. He gently held her head and closed his eyes, making a note that they really should finish their working days like this more often.


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

**Saturday afternoon**

At the marina, the breeze clanged ropes against the masts of hundreds of boats of all shapes and sizes as Keeley tried in vain to stop it whipping her hair across her face and getting it stuck in her lip gloss. She was anxious, although not as anxious as she had been earlier when her lunch plans were nearly de-railed by work. Last night, they'd finally made a breakthrough on the Silvestri case and Keeley had been in the department early this morning to make sure that the follow-up work was in place. Harry Marsh never came in on a Saturday. He always left the weekend call-outs to Fox and Sparshott. She'd called David to delay things and they'd agreed to meet at 2.00pm, here at the marina, where he had a boat.

Keeley was still very much in awe of how this whole thing had transpired; but finally, being the daughter of a highly-respected retired Seattle Police Officer had yielded something useful. Tickets to a smart gallery opening on a Wednesday evening that just happened to be in walking distance of her office. She didn't usually care for art, but the tickets were there, her parents weren't using them and it was almost on her way home. She'd dropped by shortly after 8.00pm, collected a glass of champagne and before she'd even set eyes on a picture, she'd met David Brannigan and she didn't see any pictures after that.

She was twenty eight and he was thirty, she was a Police Detective and he was incredibly rich with nothing much to occupy him other than Seattle's social calendar. He went to everything, he knew everyone and for some perplexing reason thought that Keeley was the coolest thing since the ice cube. He'd pursued her. OK, perhaps the modern parlance was stalked her, but really, how many places would a Police Officer work? She was easy to track down. He'd turned up the next morning asking to speak to Detective Fox. When she heard who was waiting for her she could hardly believe it. Neither could she believe the invitation to dinner that he made there and then. She went, she had a wonderful time and despite making it abundantly clear that he was interested in her, David walked her home, kissed her, politely said goodnight and left her with an invitation to lunch at the Marina on Saturday. Now here she was, holding down her dress with one hand and failing in the hairstyle department with the other.

She was a little early, but right on the nose of two o'clock David pulled into the parking lot in a huge, glossy black Mercedes and her heart somersaulted as he stepped out of the car. He was tall with light brown hair and the hint of a beard across his chin. His jeans hung loosely from his hips and he wore a black leather jacket that gave the suggestion of him being a _bad boy_, although his manners didn't quite follow through. Each step closer to her made his smile grow wider and it found its way to her lips as soon as he reached her, kissing away the remnants of lip gloss. He tasted of mint and what cologne she could smell before the wind carried it away probably came with an insane price tag.

"Ready for lunch?" he said, taking her hand as they walked towards the restaurant. "I thought we'd eat at SP's and then perhaps go out on my yacht for a while. You OK with that?"

"Sure, although…" she stuck out her foot and showed off her heels which weren't the most practical things to wear on a yacht.

"Nevermind, you can go barefoot, or we could pick up some deck shoes from the store." He pointed to the nautical outfitters ahead of them. That plan met with Keeley's approval.

They walked into the restaurant, which was far more informal than she was expecting it to be. Done out like a beach hut in white and pale blue it had a collection of oars on the wall which made her think of hunting trophies. They took a table and ordered from the simple menu. Keeley selected a paella to go with the bottle of Rioja that David had ordered. It was busy, with couples and families having lunch together before the strong breeze enticed them out into Puget Sound which was already a riot of coloured triangles. There was one in particular, a huge boat with an enormous crimson sail that kept catching her eye as it tacked along its course.

"There must be hundreds of boats here," she said. "Do you know who they all belong to?"

"No, only a few of them. Those who are members of the Yacht Club."

"Who's got the biggest boat?"

"Ah that's easy," he smiled. "Christian."

"Grey?" The name was already on her lips.

"Yes, do you know him?"

"Uh… No. I've met him, but I wouldn't say I know him," and certainly not under the circumstances that she did know him.

"He's a good friend of mine. Gave me some great advice when I was looking to buy _Sapphire Sea _two years ago. The man knows his boats." David turned around "He's got the… Oh, it's out. Anyhow, the large space four boats down is Christian's berth for _The Grace. _ We might see it later. You can't miss it, it has a crimson spinnaker."

"I think I've seen it already," said Keeley, pointing out into the Sound.

David smiled. "_Sapphire_ can't compete with _The Grace_, she's half the size."

"I'm sure it's very beautiful."

"She is," said David, his eyes suddenly very far away indeed.

As their lunch drew to a close Keeley became aware of a group gathering outside. "What's going on?" she asked. "What are they looking at?" David turned around.

"_The Grace_ is coming in. She's quite a sight. Want to go see?"

Keeley felt a little hesitant, but couldn't get over her desire to see Christian Grey just one more time. "Sure," she said. Getting up from the table David put his arm around her and led her out onto the pontoon.

She was expecting big, what she didn't quite appreciate was just how big. _The Grace_ was astounding, but for all its size it was maneuvered expertly into the berth by someone who was not Christian Grey. Perhaps he'd chartered it to a friend today? And then she saw Grey himself, coiling ropes on the deck and working to secure sails. Beside him was a young boy, who looked like he was learning the ropes. She laughed internally at her own lame joke. "Who's that?" she asked David, pointing to the man who was piloting the catamaran.

"Liam McConnell, but we all just call him Mac. He looks after _The Grace _and has done for years."

"Christian Grey has someone to look after his boat?"

David looked at her. "Yes," he said, as if this was a normal thing. "How else is he going to get the maintenance schedule done? Colin looks after mine."

"Oh," said Keeley, now understanding that David lived in a very different world to her.

They waited while Mac and Christian secured the catamaran and then disembarked, Christian making his son walk in front of him down the gangplank. In cut-off navy shorts and a t-shirt he was a far cry from the impeccable businessman she'd met previously. On his feet were tan deck shoes and he wore no socks. Spying David, Christian came over, his son following closely at his side.

"Hey Teddy," said David, greeting the boy with a high five. "Did you sail today?"

Teddy Grey nodded enthusiastically. "And I did all my knots too."

"That's fantastic. We'll make a sailor out of you, yet."

"He's already there," said Christian ruffling his son's hair. Keeley smiled as the boy looked up at his father with adoring eyes. It was evident that to Teddy Grey his Dad was a hero. Christian glanced at Keeley. "And Miss Fox, how nice to see you again. I didn't know that you knew David."

"Um… she started, blushing furiously, but David stepped in.

"We met on Wednesday at the Artemis Gallery opening."

"Really? Ana and I were supposed to going to that but the little guy wasn't so good, so we didn't want to leave him."

"And where's Ana today?" David asked.

"Shopping, with the girls and Will. Darcey needs yet another pair of ballet slippers and Phoebe is hell bent on buying a sword – not that she's getting one. She wants to do fencing," Christian explained to Keeley. "She's six and thankfully they do fencing for kids that starts them with a plastic foil. That girl with a blade would be dangerous."

"She cut off the Easter bunny's ear," said Teddy.

"Not a real one," explained Christian, ruefully. "A chocolate one."

"What are you raising there, Christian?"

"With Phoebe? The next me or a deadly assassin. It could go either way."

Mac joined them. "Shall I take Teddy for some hot chocolate and leave you guys to talk?"

"No, we should make a move. Ana will be back soon," said Christian. "Nice to catch up with you both."

As he walked down the pontoon towards SP's, Keeley stared after him, trying equate the serious businessman she'd met previously with the relaxed family man she'd just run into. She looked back at David and he looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, I can't compete with Christian Grey."

"Sorry?"

"I can't compete with that," he gestured to the catamaran, "or that," he gestured after Christian.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Keeley suddenly got a glimpse of the shy and insecure guy behind the good looks, the car, the social life and the money. "Christian's an incredible guy and he…" David looked away. "He's um… impressive."

Keeley thought of the complicated personal life the billionaire had had before he met his wife and realised that David must not know that side to his friend. But she looked at the handsome man stood in front of her and liked what she saw.

"So are you," she said looking down the line of yachts. "Now tell me which one's _Sapphire Sea?_"

In SP's Christian drank a beer while Teddy made short work of a tall glass of hot chocolate. It wasn't long before Ana arrived, the two girls running ahead of her and William perched on her hip.

"Is that David's car in the lot? She asked after kissing him and sitting down.

"Yes. Guess what? He's got a girl with him."

"Has he? Oh, finally!" Ana looked excited.

"Met her on Wednesday night at the Artemis."

"Oh, I wish we could've gone. I'd have loved to meet her."

"I know her." Ana instantly reacted to the change she saw in his face.

"Who is it?" She edged closer.

"It's Detective Fox."

"Oh." She considered it for a moment. "That makes things a little awkward."

"Yes." He looked at Ana. "I really, _really_ wish I'd ignored the light in my office that night. I know I'm nothing to do with it, but I've gotten myself onto the radar of people whose powers of investigation rival even mine."

Ana placed her hand over his. "There's nothing for you to worry about. It was all a long time ago and this is our life, now. You, me, Teddy, Phoebe, Darcey and this little guy," Ana kissed William on his head and bounced him on her knee. "Nothing is going to get to us."

"Mommy, can I have ice cream, please?"

Sat with her back to her daughter, Ana pursed her lips and Christian covered his smirk with his hand. "Darcey, you had some at lunchtime," Ana spoke carefully, trying hard to hold on to her equanimity.

"But Dante has Pistachio, here," she whined. "I didn't have Pistachio."

"No, Darcey."

The little girl stamped her foot. "But I want it! It's not fair!" she dropped to the floor and folded her arms in a sulk. Ana and Christian looked at each other and then at Teddy finishing his hot chocolate, at Phoebe trying to get her sister to behave just by glaring at her and William quite happily minding his own business on Ana's lap. Darcey was a different proposition entirely. Christian got up and went and crouched down beside his little girl.

"Did mommy buy you new ballet shoes today?"

"Yes," she snapped.

"What colour are they?"

"Pink." She roughly rubbed her eyes.

"Can I see them, please?"

She stared at him and then the opportunity to show off got the better of her. She pulled the carrier off the back of Ana's chair and brought it over to her Daddy, climbing onto his lap. Ana mouthed 'thank you' at Christian and blew him an air kiss. He caught it and held it to his heart.


	18. Chapter 18

**CHAPTER 18**

**Saturday Evening**

His mother never came down here. Her Rheumatoid Arthritis made negotiating the steep stairs to the basement difficult, so he worked on undisturbed, just as he had done every night this week. Above his head the space could be lit by fluorescents but Troy chose not to. Instead, he illuminated himself and his photographs with spotlights, leaving large areas in darkness. It was how he liked it and on the computer screen his work reflected his likes. On the wall to the right of him was his gallery. A series of 10 x 8" black and white pictures of women, with certain details picked out. Faye was still in place on the top row, her lips in scarlet while the rest of her languished in shades of gray. The shape of them still drew his eye, even from way over here. He could trace their outline with his mind and could not bear to part with her image. She would live on, although his head was now racing from the opportunities that her friends presented him with.

He'd been at the cemetery in an official capacity, photographing the funeral of the popular local school teacher, but when he caught sight of the group he slipped straight into obsession mode, switching cameras and firing off shot after shot of them. Eerily similar in their vital characteristics, they behaved much like a shoal of fish, grouping behind the leader. Her headship appeared to be marked by a thick choker above the same gray pendant that they all wore. He was highlighting the jewelry now, brightening the gray hues in the heart so that they focused the eye. In one version he had tinted the hearts scarlet and in another, a regal purple. But he had ditched them both for the gray. It was more subtle, just like the women themselves.

It was only when he'd been looking for something interesting in the crowd of mourners that he'd found them. At first glance they'd been hidden. But just like images which metamorphose as you catch a certain detail, the gleam from one of the pendants had attracted him like a magpie and the women had suddenly materialized from out of the group. Once his eye was drawn to the pendant he saw it repeated again and again at each woman's throat.

Highlighting these photographs was his obsession. Faye Silvestri's lips had tortured him with their perfection. The unnamed woman on the Bremerton Ferry had captivated him by the way her body moved, with all the fluidity of a cat's. She was the only one who was represented by a series of photographs. On a rare assignment across the water photographing a Seattle Business Network event, he had collected Ana Grey's eyes when she looked straight into his lens. They were now picked out in azure blue and attached to his board, following him wherever he went.

In the kitchen above he heard a knock at the door and the slow, difficult walk of his mother as she went to answer it. A low voice kept her talking for several minutes, culminating in a foot being placed on the basement staircase. Troy kept working as Roger Carter descended.

The School Principal said nothing, coming to stand behind him, watching for a minute as Troy worked on the picture.

"They're exactly who I was coming to ask you about," said Roger. "I saw that you were taking shots of them. Who are they?"

"No idea."

"I know who she is." Roger pointed to the woman with the choker. I spoke to her. She said they were Faye's bookgroup – which is a lie. Faye was always saying that she wished she had time to read. I would have known if she was in a bookgroup."

Without turning around, Troy raised an eyebrow. "Careful," he muttered. Roger did not reply.

"I particularly want to know who she is." Roger pointed to another woman.

"Why don't you ask Rob?"

"I did. He doesn't know. It was a group of friends that Faye met up with, occasionally. He thought it might be a college thing, but it isn't."

"Again with the careful."

"I worked with her for six years, I think I'd know if she was meeting up with college friends."

"You did more than just work with her."

"That's my business," Carter snapped.

"Let's hope Rob never finds out what your _business_ was. Or the pictures I took for you."

"Well, if you keep your fucking mouth shut, he won't."

"Or the Police."

There was a sardonic chuckle. A large wad of bills appeared over Troy's shoulder. "That's for you if you can get me the name of that woman. There'll be more if you can find out who the woman who showed up at the restaurant, is."

"As you're being so generous, I'll give you that one for free," said Troy. "That was Anastasia Grey. She's on the wall over there. The eyes."

Roger walked over to the gallery and Troy turned to glance at him, taking in the smart chinos and well-cut jacket. He mused how seamlessly the truly sick ones in society managed to blend in, by using good tailoring.

"Why do I know that name?"

"Grey?" said Troy, saving his file. "That would be the Grey in Grey Plaza. She's married to him."

"Christian Grey? How convenient."

Troy turned more than his head now. "No! You leave her alone."

Roger turned with his hands raised in surrender. "I wasn't touching her."

"Then don't. Ever!"

Roger returned to stand in front of Troy. "You really need to get out more. Constructing your perfect woman in a series of photographs on a wall isn't gonna get you laid."

"Who said it was about getting laid?"

"You're nineteen. It's always about getting laid."

"It's art."

"It's sick."

"You're really not in any position to talk about what's sick."

"What I do, I do with permission. Do you have these women's permission to use their body parts for your private viewing pleasure?"

Troy didn't reply.

"I thought not." Roger threw the bills on the desk in front of the keyboard. "You're the one with the journalistic contacts, find out who that one is."

"And Anastasia Grey?"

"I'll keep her in reserve." Carter stalked out and West swept the bills to the floor.

**A/N: How am I doing? Do you like it? Do you hate it? Please leave a review! ****R x**


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

**Sunday**

Keeley Fox opened her eyes and as the view in front of her swam into focus she lifted her head from the pillows to better see it. "Wow," she croaked, her voice still thick with sleep.

"Wow, yourself," came the reply from behind her and she smiled, remembering the other great thing about last night. She rolled over, a sexy smile on her face and found herself being looked down on in the nicest possible way. David was sat up in bed, reading. "Good morning," he said a little bashfully.

"Good morning," she said, scrambling up to sit beside him. She held the quilt to her breasts. If it was possible for a guy to be even more good looking than he already was, then David was managing it. His beard was a little more noticeable this morning and his hair was agreeably mussed, by her, she remembered, thinking back over last night. All that fresh air out on the water had been an aphrodisiac and when he'd suggested dinner she took no persuading. Neither had there been much persuasion needed when it came to the end of the evening and she didn't want to say goodnight. It just sort of happened, although there was no way she was ever taking him back to her apartment if this was the palace that he lived in. She was at Escala, the home of her dreams and now she was torn between the view _from_ the bed and the view _in_ the bed. She looked back out the window. "Such an incredible view," she said, looking straight out over the Sound.

"It's not the best this place has to offer." He gestured to the ceiling. You should see it from up there."

"This isn't the top?"

"No," he grinned. "This level is for mere mortals. God lives in the Penthouse."

"Whose is it?"

"Some Japanese guy, I believe. I've never seen him. It's been a couple of years since I was last up there. It used to belong to Christian and Ana. It's how I met them, actually. We shared an elevator ride one day not long after I'd moved in. Nice couple. Fabulous kids," he added, lost for a moment before looking back at her with a smile that hinted of loneliness. He placed his book face down on the bedside table and held out his arm which she immediately claimed, snuggling up and inhaling the heady mix of cologne and sex on him. This could be actual bliss, although the investigator in her was demanding to know what the catch was. Was this Christian Grey all over again? A rich, good looking guy with a dark secret? "Thank you for last night," he said softly. Keeley sat up and looked at him.

"Why are you saying thank you?"

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "This happens so rarely."

Keeley almost laughed. "What?" She'd assumed, a little cynically, that she was the latest in a long line of women who had been in his bed.

He ran a finger down her cheek. "Meeting someone like you. Someone who…" he gave a scoff. "Everybody thinks that having money makes life fabulous. They forget that it can't buy happiness and because of that, it's sometimes a curse. But you… You're real. You're exactly the same this morning as you were last night."

"I doubt it," she croaked. "My hair looks like a bird's nest in the morning."

He leaned back to look at it. "True. But I like how it got that way."

"So do I," she said, blushing a little.

He leant to kiss her, pulling her with him back onto the mattress and sinking smoothly into her in a way that she'd always imagined that it should be done, sweetly erasing the memories of inexpert jabbings. In made her give a long, low moan as she wrapped her arms around him and enjoyed the ride.

It was a little while later after she was showered and wrapped in another of David's cotton robes that she made her way through to the living area, which she hadn't really seen much of last night. The apartment was huge, taking up half this floor of Escala. It was done out in neutral tones, the run of cushions along the sofa in deepening shades of blue were the only strong accents of colour. The walls were a soft cream and the main furniture pieces were in light wood. She wasn't an expert in matters of interior decoration, but looking at the room, Keeley got a feeling of 'elegant softness,' and she could find no better words to describe David himself. She found herself contemplating the stark contrast that existed between his world of social engagements and long lunches, and her world of beatings, murder, extortion or whatever else Seattle chose to throw at her.

David was in the kitchen area, standing in front of the coffee machine and pulling mugs from a cupboard above it. There was the smell of baking pastry in the air. He too was wrapped in a robe and washing him had been part of her delicious Sunday morning of sex, snuggling and showers. Now it was moving on to coffee and croissants. It only needed to have a long peruse of the Sunday papers and the perfect start to the day would be complete.

"Do you want a paper?" She stared at him, unsure whether she'd actually voiced her desire for a newspaper out loud. "I can get one sent up." He picked up the phone. _"The Seattle Times?"_ She nodded, slightly unsure of herself and he looked at her, head angling to the side a little. "Are you OK? You look a little… bemused."

She gave a nervous giggle. "I am, I guess. I was just thinking about getting a newspaper."

He gave a wolfish grin. "I didn't know I possessed the ability to mind-read." He sent her heart racing and a deep ache set up within her which might require another shower, afterwards. She walked into the kitchen area, her bare feet appreciating the warmth coming from the under floor heating and as he poured the coffee she eyed the curve of his behind under the thin fabric of his robe. She moved further down, startled suddenly by the mangled appearance of his lower right leg and the white scar than ran down the side of it. Focusing on it, she noticed white dots either side. It must be a surgery scar.

"What happened to your leg?"

He glanced down at it. "I broke it when I was fifteen, falling off a horse, which then turned and trampled me. Shattered is probably the more correct word. There's a lot of metal in there. I set off airport security a lot." He smiled and handed her a coffee not needing to ask how she took it, he'd remembered. Black. "I've never been around horses since."

"I'm not surprised."

"It's not easy if you're a Brannigan." He raised an eyebrow and when she didn't respond, he smiled. "I take it you've never heard of my sister, Elizabeth?"

"No."

"Gold at the Rio Olympics for Individual Eventing. Or my parents? Patrick and Christine. Part of the team that won Dressage silver at the Sydney Olympics and Dressage gold at Athens in 2004. Horses are in my blood. Or they were." David sipped his coffee. "It's one of the reasons I'm in Seattle and not Maryland. To get away from it."

"You came pretty far."

"As far as the east is from the west. Sorry, bits of the Bible. I'm a recovering Catholic - that's another reason. I hope you don't…"

"I'm not religious," Keeley said quickly. "My job makes it very difficult to believe in a God."

"My life makes it very difficult to believe in a God, but the rest of them still try. Good luck to them but I'm through with it." There was a difficult silence for a few minutes. It didn't take an investigative genius to work out, just from David's tone that he was holding back anger. Keeley didn't press it. Arguments over religion didn't feature in her perfect Sunday morning. "As it's such a beautiful day," he continued, shaking the anger off, "do you want to do something after breakfast?" He put down the coffee and placed his hands on her hips. She followed suit, feeling the jut of his hip bones under her hands. He wasn't the meatiest guy she'd ever been with.

She wrinkled her nose. "I really should go back to my apartment and get a change of clothes."

"Well, that will take all of five minutes. After that?"

Keeley shrugged. "I don't know. Surprise me."

"How about a late lunch in Bremerton, across the Sound? I know a great little restaurant over there."

"Bremerton?" Keeley thought back to the miserable Monday morning she'd spent in its cemetery last week.

"I know it's a little far, but," he smiled. "It's a great restaurant. It's like you're setting foot into Edwardian England." His slightly pleading smile made her acquiesce. Going all that way would mean that she was guaranteed to be spending the whole day with David. She could cope with living like a rich person for a day. "How about it?" he pressed.

She nodded. "Sure!"

"Great!" The doorbell rang and the oven timer went off. "You get the paper and I'll get the croissants."

As she walked back with the thick wodge of the _Seattle Times_ and its fifty-seven supplements, she heard her phone chiming the ringtone of impending doom.

"Oh no," she groaned. It was the specific one she kept for Harry Marsh, who never worked weekends and never called her on her cell. This was going to mean only one thing.

She dropped the paper onto the sofa and scrabbled in her purse for her phone.

"Fox."

"Get yourself down here."

Of all the fucking Sundays he could have picked, why did it have to be this one? "I'm at a friend's place. It's… on Mercer Island," she lied.

"The hell you are. You're at Escala with Brannigan. I'll see you in thirty." The call cut off abruptly.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, throwing her phone back into her bag.

In the angry silence David walked over to her. "Never mind, we can do this another time. It must be urgent."

"It will be," although that was no consolation to her disrupted day. "It's most likely a new case."

"Don't they have detectives that work weekends?"

"Yes, but…"

"If they're calling you in, it's serious?"

She nodded and then anger flared within her. "How the fuck does he know I'm here?"

"He knew you were here?"

"Yes, and he knows I'm with you." She ran her hand through her hair, or attempted to. It got unattractively snagged in the damp tangles. "Jesus," she huffed. "Is nothing sacred?" She picked up her purse. "Sorry about this," she said sadly. "I have to go."

As she walked through the deserted precinct a few minutes later, nibbling on the croissant David had wrapped in kitchen paper for her, she thought again of their plans to go to Bremerton. She'd barely glanced at it on a map before and now it seemed that everything was pointing to it. It was a pig of a place to get to. No easy way round and beyond it the looming mass of the Olympic Mountains containing heaven knows what species of wild animals. She had spent the first few hours of her morning in heaven and as she made her way up the steps into the Police department, she noted the contrast.

"Welcome to hell," she muttered.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

The department was as busy as a Monday morning and walking towards her, Ryan Sparshott was looking as happy as she was about being called in. He looked as if he'd just walked out of the wilderness.

"This better be good." He hurled his backpack to the floor. "We were going hiking." He looked at her and laughed. "And I can tell you didn't get home, last night. You in a dress? Now there's a thing. How's lover boy?"

"Naked and cuffed to the bed," she sassed. "Did you manage to remember her name this morning?"

"I didn't need to. For your information I slept alone last night."

"The women of Seattle salute you for your bravery. Hey, did you tell Marsh that David and I were dating?"

He shook his head. "No."

"When he called me, he knew exactly where I was and who I was with."

Ryan looked uncomfortable. "Really? That's weird."

"Sure is." Keeley looked over to where a fresh pot of coffee had been put on. "Want coffee?"

"Yep. Keep it coming." But she didn't have time to collect any as right then Harry Marsh stunned her by walking into the room looking vaguely smart. This was quickly obliterated by a second shock when he was followed in by her dad.

Obviously, she wanted to know why he was here, but one mystery was immediately resolved. She rolled her eyes thinking about the last message she'd sent out last night, saying that she didn't want to come over for dessert because she was with David. If her Dad was here and Marsh was trying to track down his team, then of course he would know exactly where Keeley was. "Mom," she groaned. Her parents weren't prudes, but there was still something a little awkward about them being aware that she hadn't made it home last night. It was a landmark moment for the baby of Fox family.

"Gather round," said Marsh, unbuttoning his suit jacket to expose the rarity of a pressed shirt. He still looked shabby stood next to her father and then she smiled. They all would. When her Dad headed up this department there would have been a dress code. There would have even been a hairstyle code, and even now, with his hair fully gray, her father never deviated from his favoured close crop. Standards under his successor had slipped. Certainly, she could never imagine her Dad tolerating half the staff turning up in jeans, even on a Sunday. Plus, you couldn't run in heels and a skirt which was why her working life was spent in flats and a pantsuit.

The team perched on the edges of desks in front of the two men. Her boss held out his hand to her father. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Inspector Kendall Fox. He will be joining us temporarily to work on the Silvestri case." There was a brief turn of heads towards Keeley. They all knew the name even if they'd never met him. "I'm aware of the breakthrough that was made yesterday and thank you Keeley for making sure that the new security camera footage has been processed and made available. Come tomorrow, I hope we can get to work on identifying our murderer. But, I have two important pieces of news to report to you this morning, which is why I've had to drag you in. I make no apologies for it and I don't think you'll be going home any time soon, so cancel your plans." There was a grumble of discontent and several pulled out phones. Marsh let it go for a moment and Keeley locked eyes with her father. He said nothing, but she knew his expression and it was not one that approved of people being distracted by phones. Keeley would wait until later to message David.

"Guys," Keeley called, trying to bring the team back and for once they paid attention to her.

"Thank you," said Marsh. Manners were another first. He was on his best behaviour in front of his former boss. "So, as I was saying, I have two pieces of news for you. Firstly, the tech guys discovered on Friday that some of the older entries in the DNA database had become corrupted and were not cross-matched against our searches on the Silvestri case. The good news is, that they finally unjammed it, or whatever it is they do to these things, and ran our samples again. This time we got a match." A tangible buzz of excitement shot around the room. "That, I'm sad to say is where the good news ends. We have a serial killer on our hands, people." This news was met with silence. "We have three samples of their DNA at three separate murders, but as yet, no name to go with any of them. As a result, we are re-opening all three unsolved murders and Inspector Fox will be in charge of integrating the cold cases with our work. Hilton, Goodman and Shaw, you three will work directly with Inspector Fox to make that happen. We need everything amalgamated as quickly as possible. The rest of you…" he stepped back as two administrators placed six files of dusty yellowing paper on the table in front of them, "will be reading. I don't trust computers right now, so we'll be doing this the old fashioned way." Keeley's heart sank.

"Please tell me we're not reading paper case notes?" Sparshott's comment went for everyone in the room.

"You're reading paper case notes," said Marsh without mercy. Sparshott vented an epithet that would not go down well in front of her father.

"That will take hours, days, even," said Ryan. "It will lose us valuable time and if they strike again while we're still… Look, just let's use what's on the computer."

"No, because I don't trust the damn things if they're only going to give me half the story. Whereas, it's all here," he slapped the top file, sending up a cloud of dust. "Now take one each and get to it. There are two files for each murder, so you're going to need to buddy up to get the whole picture. I want this department up to speed by five o'clock."

Keeley thought there would probably be a mutiny by five o'clock, but she collected a file and buddying up with Ryan, they took them back to their desks.

"I'll get us some coffee," said Ryan and as he went, Keeley took the opportunity to message David. She strolled out into the hallway to stand with her back against the window, feeling the warm sun on her shoulders. Right now, she'd rather feel David's warm hands on her shoulders, but another celestial body would have to do. She really wasn't surprised when her Dad followed her out.

"Good morning," he said, sliding his hands into the pockets of his blue pin-stripe suit. Apart from his hair being much grayer, it was like he'd never retired. It was exactly how she always remembered him, from being a small child.

"Morning," she replied.

"Did you have a good evening?"

"Yes thanks."

"So…um. You and David. You're an item, then?"

She smiled. "I guess. It's early days though."

Her Dad leant up against the wall with her. "That's what I told your mother, not that she's taken it on board. She's never been so pleased to have not gone to an event as she was about having missed the gallery opening." Kendall Fox rolled his eyes. "She tells me that he's Seattle's most eligible bachelor and that there hasn't been such a catch since the days of Christian Grey. Although, I do hope that he doesn't turn out to be like Grey."

Keeley turned to him. "What do you mean?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Well, I met him a couple of times, years ago now, and it was like meeting Teflon. There was nothing about him that you could get hold of. He gave you nothing of himself. I see he's married with a tribe of kids now, so perhaps he's gotten some therapy, or something. I guess it's my psychology training, but he always struck me as a sociopath who had it well under control. So what's David like and what does he do, exactly? I Googled him but I can't find any mention of what he does."

"He doesn't do anything," she admitted and she saw the disappointment in her father's face.

"He doesn't have a job?"

"No."

"And he doesn't work for the family business?"

Keeley smiled. He father was fifty steps in front of her. She'd been content to just use conversation to tease out the details of David's life. Whereas, her Dad had probably already tracked down his IRS file. "You have me at a disadvantage," she admitted.

"The Brannigan family breed, race and show horses. Three brothers, came over from Ireland during the potato famine of the 1840s, settled in Maryland and started a business in what they were best at. They're pretty much synonymous with Equestrianism in the US." Keeley looked at him blankly. "You've never really been into horses, have you?"

"No. And neither's David, these days."

"Yes, that was a nasty accident."

She threw up her hands. "How do you know about that?"

"I read up on the guy. A member of the Brannigan family trampled by a horse? That's going to make the news."

In her hand Keeley's phone chimed and she read the reply from David, saying he was sorry she was stuck at work for the day and asking if she was free for dinner on Wednesday.

"Your Mom would be angry if I didn't try and make up for today and invite you and David round for dinner, this evening."

Keeley shook her head. "No, it's…"

"Early days, I know. She'll be disappointed."

"I'm sure there'll be other opportunities for you both to meet him. But, can you stop with the forensic analysis, please and just allow me to get to know him the normal way?"

Kendall Fox smiled. "Sure."

"And why did you tell Marsh where I was?"

He shook his head. "I didn't."

His daughter's blood ran cold. "So how did he know?"

"He's a good detective, Keeley. Chances are he knows more about you than you think."

The conversation with her Dad set Keeley on edge and before she headed back to her desk she went to freshen up, finding Beth, a fellow detective, hiding in the restroom with her phone.

"What are you doing?" Keeley washed her hands under the cold faucet.

"Reading." Beth didn't take her eyes from the screen.

"Must be good?"

"Um hmm," she replied. There was no movement from her other than the slide of her thumb on the screen. Curious, Keeley moved closer.

"Some book, huh?"

"Sure is," said Beth. She finally lifted her head and engaged with Keeley, eyes bright and face flushed with arousal. "My friend sent it to me, she knows I like escapist stuff. You're dating a hot, rich guy, perhaps you should read this? Get an idea of what you're in for." Beth gave a knowing smile.

"How do you know about that?"

"Uh, Keeley. You were pictured with him last week."

"Oh the gallery thing, yes!" So much had happened since then. "So this book is compelling enough for you to hide in the restroom when we've been told to get up to speed on three cold cases?"

"Hell yes! I won't be long, I just need another fix."

"So what's it about?"

"A guy, being abused by an older woman."

Keeley pulled a face. "That doesn't sound very hot."

"On the face of it, it isn't. But he's a borderline sociopath so it's heroin for me as a Psychologist!" Beth grinned. "I'll send it to you anyway, see what you think. Perhaps you'll find similarities in Mr Brannigan that we see in Mr White?"

Keeley wasn't thinking about Mr Brannigan, she was thinking about Mr Grey and her Dad's comment from earlier. "Yeah, send it to me." Beth settled back into the corner. "You're not coming in?"

"Just another chapter," she pleaded. Tell him I'm sick."

"Reading that? I think you are."

Beth ignored her and returned to her book.

Keeley walked back into the office and Ryan called over to her.

"Can you pick my documents off the printer? Please," he added, seeing Kendall Fox looking at him. As she passed, Keeley pulled out the sheets of paper and flicked through them. Sandwiched between the two documents was a photograph that stopped her in her tracks.

"And the photograph?"

"No, that's not mine," said Ryan.

Keeley looked at it. It was a picture of Faye Silvestri's friends at the funeral last Monday, but what drew her eye this time was the heart-shaped pendant around each of their necks.

"That's mine."

Keeley looked up into the face of Zack, the department's photographer. He was holding his hand out for the picture.

"It's very striking."

"Yes."

"Where's it from?"

"The Seattle Photography Club site. I'm a fan of the guy's work. You were there, weren't you?"

"Yes. But I don't remember the pendants being that noticeable."

"They wouldn't have been. That's his style, his signature. Drawing elements out of a photograph. Making you see what he wants you to see and ignoring other details. There could be an elephant in there but you wouldn't see it. He's really talented."

Keeley handed the photograph over to him and returned to her desk, dropping the print-outs to Ryan as she passed.

She checked her mail, received the book Beth was raving about and went onto the Seattle Photography Club site and clicked on the picture to look at it again. She stared at it for several minutes and smiled as she realised that as hard as she tried to look around it, this guy had indeed managed to get her to only look at the pendants.

"Clever," she mused. "You could hide things in plain sight."

She pulled the pile of dusty files to her and got to work.


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N - if you get a little confused by who's who, flick back to Chapter 1 where I've added a character list to help you keep track. **

**R x**

* * *

**CHAPTER 21**

**Monday**

Scott was trying, he really was, but perhaps he was too infected by the poison, now? He slumped into the chair at his desk and switched on his computer. The little clock on the lower right hand side of the screen said 03:57. Another night without sleep. Whenever he tried to push them aside, back came thoughts of Christian Grey, settling like a green miasma on his life. It now extended to whenever he looked at Susannah. She had once been everything to him, feeling secure in what they had together, but every moment that she was in Grey's building now felt as if she might as well be in his bed. Scott couldn't shake the feeling that it was true even though he hadn't a scrap of evidence. However much he tried to convince himself that he was imagining it, there was something… a secret hinted at when he'd found her sat so cozily with the Greys and again, when she'd reached for the extra wine glass, knowing exactly which cupboard to open. But he couldn't nail it down. He'd gone through her emails, her purse, her work documents, her calendar, her stash of little nick-nacks but he couldn't find a single thing to use in accusation against her. A small voice within had suggested it might be because she was innocent, or because she was good friends with Ana Grey. But the small voice was regularly drowned out by the snarling beast of jealousy.

They were barely speaking. Their marriage was not even a month old and he was having difficulty even talking to her about what they were going to cook for dinner. Her submission to him was total in its physical manifestation, but mentally, it was not. He felt that if it were a choice between him and Christian Grey, she would pick him. Given how viciously he'd fucked her tonight, who could blame her? He knew he had to get it under control before the green mist turned a shade of red.

If they were going to play 'pin the tail on the adulterer' then even the worst player would have no trouble locating him. Petra had been there, even before Susannah and Petra really didn't count. He unzipped, he came, he zipped up and he left, paid for a few things she needed and that was all there was to it. She was a collection of orifices, not a relationship. He didn't want one and she knew the score. Sloan, however, didn't. She wanted the touchy feely stuff and sleeping with her had been a giant mistake. He'd gambled on getting a bed for the night and wound up collecting a limpet. She was a lonely single mother who had no idea of what she was getting into or what he was really capable of. He was pretending to be this guy, Eddie, who lived an eclectic life. How long before she discovered that he was married and just the Picture Editor on the _Seattle Times. _It was a boring job, selecting which crappy shots to use in the paper. Nobody could take a good picture these days. Well, nobody that the paper was willing to use. Scott had a few people that he'd like to approach but money was tight and the rewards for the true artists weren't there.

The true artists were to be found in the Seattle Photography Club and even though he'd left the day-to-day photography behind, he still appreciated the artistry that went into a beautiful shot. He was on the site now, cooling his marital ire with the balm of beauty. He clicked through the new pictures, lingering over a 'woodland nymph' collection taken in the forests of the Olympic Peninsula. Porcelain skin up against rugged bark was a startlingly pleasing combination. Especially the model. She'd been chosen well. Young, with flaxen curls and breasts that disappeared to nothing when she arched supine on the forest floor. He was not attracted to her but photographically, she was breathtaking. True art. He found it easy to clearly define to himself what was and was not pornography, but he understood that those definitions were different for each person. He found skinny young models to be art. Photographs of women who were older and more voluptuous moved closer to the boundary. Add an element of restraint and a photograph was definitely blurring the lines for him. There was nothing in that category in this new batch as he clicked quickly through the voluminous upload from a newbie. The sound of Susannah coughing broke his concentration and when it returned he found himself clicking through a series of cemetery shots when something caught his eye and he smiled. _Quilcene _had done it again and Scott was mesmerized.

How this person achieved these amazing effects, Scott had no idea. Professionally, he'd always preferred not to re-touch his pictures, but there was something about the detail in these that made Scott think again about the benefits of digital manipulation. One of the deeply frustrating things about the Photography Club's website, was that some of the best artists chose to hide themselves behind user names and pseudonyms. _Quilcene _was one of them. Scott knew nothing about them other than they uploaded only rarely and when they did, it was quality. The photograph of jewellery set against pale flesh and black fabric had an ethereal starkness about it, with the gray hearts drawing the eye, softening the picture and acting both as a magnet to draw and a talisman to ward off the darkness. "Wow," Scott muttered in disbelief as he reached up to rub his forehead. Passing his hand across his line of sight momentarily broke his connection to the hearts and for a second he saw something else he recognised, although it was gone again when his sight line returned. He brought his hand back slowly, reaching out to the screen and placing a hand across the hearts. Obscuring them enabled him to see the rest of the picture and what it showed him made him catch his breath. He called up a fresh window to email the photographer.

**xXXx**

In bed, Susannah tossed and turned. The coughing fit had woken her and there was little chance of getting back to sleep. There was little point, either. It was Monday. If she went back to sleep now she'd feel wretched when she woke again and Monday didn't need any extra help to feel worse. Considering how sick she'd been after the fire at the Devil's Kitchen, a few coughing fits were a small price to pay for a life that had been saved. But this was just the beginning. She had lung damage and the doctors had been clear, that with age and any changes in the lung that the smoke had caused, it was likely to get worse. For now though, coughing fits and needing to avoid anyone with a cold was the extent of it. She rolled over into the empty space beside her. Scott wasn't sleeping, either, although it hadn't been coughing that had woken him. She liked to snuggle up to him, his warmth and strong familiar arms would soothe her back to sleep. But that hadn't happened recently. Her affliction had become an irritation and these days, he was far more likely to get up and go sleep in another room, than he was to hold her.

In her head she went over her day, mentally noting those tasks that she needed to get done; including arranging a trip to Brussels to sign off on the working practice changes that affected GEH employees in the European Union. Brussels was not the most engaging place in the world and she wondered if she could squeeze in a detour to Bruges. Getting time alone to walk along the canals and through the streets and squares of that beautiful little city, would be precious. It was one of her favourite places.

Susannah glanced at the clock and a shadow cast itself over the glow of the digital numbers. She turned her head to see Scott silhouetted in the doorway of the bedroom.

"You're awake. Good. Get up." Susannah complied immediately. "Bring your collar and come here."

She picked it up from the bedside table and walked over to him. She was naked and the chill of the room raised goosebumps on her skin. That wasn't the only thing that made her skin react. His voice had been flat and cold. He didn't want her, he wanted to punish her. How had she managed to transgress while sleep? She stood in front of him, hands extended, cupping the collar in her palms and her eyes focused on his feet. He picked it up and walked around her, placing it around her neck and locking it in place. The weight of it settled into position until she got to the office and could be free of it.

As soon as it was in place, he put his hand around her neck at the base of her skull and propelled her forwards, out of the bedroom and down the hall to his study.

"Explain this!" He pushed her in front of his computer screen, voice snarling and a finger jabbing into her back.

Susannah looked. All she could see was a row of gray hearts around the necks of her and her friends. It seemed to be the only thing in the picture and when she tried to see the picture as a whole, she found that she couldn't. It was as if she was being prevented from seeing something by a clever visual cloaking device. Then she realised what the issue was, why he was so angry with her. Her collar had been edited out of the picture.

"I was wearing it." She spoke with the assurance of truth. Probably to 'clean' the image up the young man had removed it to highlight the simple nature of the pendants, unaware of the arrangement that it marked and the impact it would likely have on her behind.

"I'm establishing that, by asking for the original," he said. "You'd better pray that you're telling the truth."

"I promise you, I am."

There was silence for a moment. "And I suppose you think that's it?" She knew better than to reply. "What the fuck are these?" he tapped the screen.

"Pendants."

"I can see that. Why?"

"Because we liked them. We all purchased one each."

"And why would you do that?"

"To illustrate our friendship." It was not a lie, but it was not the whole truth, either.

"A piece of rock illustrates a friendship? Well, I suppose it might," he conceded. "Still, I am making two new rules for you. Three, in fact. Look at me." His wife turned to him and looked into his eyes. "I will never meet up with these women, again. Repeat."

Susannah did.

"I will not wear any adornment around my neck other than those deemed suitable by my husband. Repeat."

She complied and also repeated the third statement, that she would wear the collar twenty-four hours a day. It would no longer be removed at night. That was punishment indeed given the weight of it.

"And you will give me that pendant, now." Susannah went to her closet and retrieved it from the inside pocket of a jacket, safely wrapped in a white handkerchief. She returned and placed it in her husband's hand.

"I'm sorry, my love," she said. "I trust and respect your decisions for the strength of our marriage."

Scott gave a derisive huff. "The strength of our marriage? I didn't know about your Secret Sisterhood of the Freaky Similarities. What other secrets are you keeping from me?"

"None," she said, holding fast to the missing name from her list of previous Dominants. He started at her, willing secrets out of her eyeballs. "And don't think I haven't finished with you." There was a 'ping' from his computer and Scott checked who it was. "Go and get dressed," he snapped. "By the time you return, I'll know whether you're telling the truth."

Susannah made her way to the bathroom knowing that she'd escaped lightly. The soreness between her legs from last night told her how much worse it could be. These days, he wasn't the virile specimen he thought he was. He occasionally passed on sex, framing it as choice when really it was down to him not being at the peak of fitness, anymore. She never alluded to it though. Last night amply demonstrated that when he wanted to, he could really hurt her.

As for her confiscated pendant, she smiled. She would wear her gray heart on the inside from now on.

**xXXx**

Scott opened the email and the attachment that confirmed his wife's truthfulness. Unretouched, he could look at the photograph in its entirety. Immaculate, erect and each woman possessing a quality that he recognised, he worked out the link between them. It was staring him in the face. They were submissives. He'd been around subs long enough to know what to look for. He turned to the message that Quilcene had written with it. Scott had asked what the photographer knew about the women. Nothing, he said, apart from the woman who'd joined them later in the restaurant.

Scott was astonished. "Anastasia Grey?" He said out loud. What had she got to do with it? Scott knew that despite his long previous association with the Devil's Kitchen, Christian Grey was no longer part of the scene. Happily married with children, it would seem. His wife had become one of Seattle's most notable business people, managing to carve out a reputation away from her husband's shadow. She was a strong woman, perhaps her strength extended to other areas? Perhaps she was the Dominant, now? Another thought came to mind. What if… given Susannah and Anastasia's close friendship, perhaps the reason for it was a secret sapphic side to Mrs Grey? In which case Susannah's distance may be explained because she too held those desires. He would never be able to have all of her if that was the case. Did she have desires that she wanted to explore with these women and with Anastasia Grey in control of it? He was aware he was speculating but there was one clear way to find out.

He was taking his wife to the office this morning.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

**Monday**

In the back seat of the car, Christian was on the phone, though that didn't stop him from holding Ana's hand. On the other side of the screen, their driver, Kennedy inched the car through the heavy morning traffic. The couple usually left early to avoid the worst of it, but they'd been delayed leaving the house. A last minute change to the plans for tomorrow's gathering had necessitated an important discussion with Jason and Gail. Ana smiled. There was not the smallest detail being left unattended for their son's tenth birthday.

How on earth were they parents to a ten year old? Ana couldn't explain how time had passed so quickly. On top of Teddy's presents, Christian had insisted that the announcement about his future ownership of the Seattle Sounders was made on his son's birthday. He was being an amusing control freak about it all and she looked at her husband with a gentle smile on her face. He turned and smiling back at her, she watched his eyes as they took a tour of her body. He let go of her hand, reached across to her thigh and ran his hand down towards her knee, stopping at the hem and sliding his hand underneath. Ana parted her legs slightly and without waiting for an invitation Christian started to stroke her inner thigh, each caress getting a little further up her leg. There were cars either side of them and the guy on Christian's side would have a good view had it not been for the blacked out windows that her husband always insisted on. His wrist pushed her skirt higher and Ana parted her legs a little wider before he reached the top and slid his fingers under the lace of her panties. She raised an eyebrow at him and a smirk of smug self-satisfaction appeared on his face. It was like sitting next to a horny schoolboy. If Christian had the opportunity to get his hands on her, he'd take it. Removing his hand and swapping the phone to his other ear he suddenly turned to face her, moving closer and pulling on her thigh to get her to open wider. This time, he slid the fingers of his right hand under the lace. Knowing the bliss that was coming, Ana relaxed and leaned her head back on the rest as he eased his fingers in.

He finished his call and in the unexpected silence that followed Ana opened her eyes to find Christian looking at her.

"What?"

"Nothing in particular," he said. "Just appreciating the sight of you enjoying my fingers."

"There needs to be a rule that all Mondays have to start this way," she sighed.

"Pity we're nearly there." He went to withdraw but she reached down and stayed his hand, holding his fingers inside her for a few moments longer. Kennedy turned into the Plaza entrance and Ana reluctantly let go of his hand. Closing her legs again she smoothed her skirt down over her thighs as Christian transferred the taste of her to his mouth. "Are you sure we can't have lunch? I could go for more of this."

She shook her head. "You know I'm not free."

"You blocked out your entire day."

"That's because I'm spending it working on your book."

Christian pouted. "And I can't come and help with that? I am the expert on it, after all."

"No, because you'll probably want to check page 156 for technical accuracy and and I'll find myself bound and suspended from the ceiling."

He shook his head. "I think page 156 is where I learn to use butt plugs, but I'll come and check."

She dropped her head into her hands and thanked all that was holy that they used the divider between them and their new driver.

Pulling up outside the building, Kennedy got out of the car and opening Ana's door she slid out into the overcast Monday morning. She looked up at the three towers of Grey Plaza thrusting into the sky above and then looked down at the crowds of people streaming into it, either to their offices or to the stores underneath. Christian took her hand and they walked into the concourse together.

"Do you think you'll change Stephen's name in the book?"

"I think so," she said. "Certainly the last name. Colours are out."

"Do you still think I'm an Edward?"

She looked at him. He didn't look like anyone right now, just a little pouty and protective. "It's one, but I think I need to try a few. See what suits the character best. How about we start with Jonathan?"

Christian pulled a face. "Makes me sound like an asshole. Besides, there is no character, there's only me."

"Which is why I need to fictionalize it. At the moment it reads like a series of journal entries."

"We could do it like that."

"Bridget Jones got there before you, my love."

Away to the left, she saw Luke and Andrea walking in, holding the hands of their little boy, Charlie, as they took him to the in-house daycare suite. Ana was happily watching Charlie do everything but walk properly until she realised that Christian was gripping her hand unpleasantly tightly.

"Ow," she said, trying to pull away, but Christian wouldn't let her. He stopped walking and stared at something. She saw it rarely now, but he was utterly furious.

"What the _fuck_ is he doing," he hissed.

"What? Where are you looking?"

"Ten o'clock!" he hissed and Ana looked in that direction, instantly picking up the problem in the crowd ahead of them. Susannah was being frog-marched towards them by her husband and his hand was on her neck. All around people were stopping to look as they drew attention to themselves. "I can't believe he's doing this," he continued as Susannah and Scott met them and before her eyes and in public, Dominant Christian squared up to Dominant Scott. Beside him, Susannah looked mortified. Ana intervened.

"Gentlemen. Perhaps we should take this inside,"

"Lady," said Scott. "Perhaps you should know your place."

In the seconds that followed one thing was clear. Christian Grey had struck first and struck hard, busting McDowell's nose and sending him sprawling onto the bricks of the concourse. Ana yelped, grabbing Christian and pulling him back. But McDowell did not retaliate. The force of the punch had dazed him. As he lay on the floor, his nose streamed blood on to the brand new paviors.

"How dare you insult my wife," Christian snarled. Around them Grey Plaza drew to a halt as everyone turned to focus on the altercation.

"You should keep better control of her," replied McDowell. He sounded drunk. There was a moment when she thought it was over and then Christian sprang forward, going to kick him, Ana's screams for him to stop brought him to his senses.

"Christian," she pleaded, "come away." She pulled at his arm. "Leave it. Let security deal with him." Luke Sawyer came to stand in front of his friend and boss. "Don't make this worse," Ana soothed, stroking his arm. How exactly it could be worse, when her husband had physically assaulted someone in what looked like an unprovoked attack, she didn't know.

McDowell gave a triumphant laugh and then turned pure venom on Susannah. "Go on. Choose. Him, or me," he shouted. "Or her, even. Is she your secret lesbian lover?"

Ana was thankful for the cool head of Luke Sawyer, who, scooping Charlie up into one arm, placed a hand on Christian's back and guided him into the GEH building, leaving his staff to attend to Scott McDowell. Ana was just about to follow her husband in when she saw Susannah start to buckle. She went to her. Andrea did the same thing and between them both they got the humiliated woman out of the spotlight, leaving Scott McDowell laughing on the floor.

**xXXx**

Andrea and Ana headed straight for the elevators and with people scattering out of one that was just about to depart, the three women got into an empty car. The three of them remained silent all the way to the twenty-ninth floor, where they got out and walked Susannah down the hallway to her office. They were met by Susannah's shocked PA, Kelly. She went ahead, throwing the door of the office open and Andrea and Ana led Susannah over to the sofa and sat her down.

"Where's the key?" said Ana.

"In my desk. In the little tin."

Andrea watched as Ana retrieved a key and grabbing hold of the choker around Susannah's neck, unlocked it and hurled it across the room. It smacked into the window and dropped onto the wooden floor with a clatter. "Oh my God, Susie," said Ana, inspecting the woman's neck. To the side of her, Kelly recoiled in horror and Andrea's stomach roiled at the sight of the welts and bruises on the lawyer's neck. There was only one possible thing she could say.

"I know a safehouse. I can get her in there."

Ana looked at Susannah. "It's an option. But there are enough hotels in Seattle for us to make it damned hard for him to find you." Ana grabbed a chair from around the desk and sat down in front of Susannah. "I know it's been bad for a while, but what happened to result in this?"

"He saw a photograph of me, with the other girls. It was taken at Faye's funeral," she added.

"Does he know?"

"Exactly what the link is? No." Susannah shook her head. "But he's getting closer. He worked out what we all are."

Andrea had no idea what they were talking about and looking at her fellow PA, neither did Kelly. But the junior took the initiative.

"Can I get you something?" Kelly asked her boss.

"Some coffee please. Perhaps a bagel? I'm hungry."

Ana placed her hand on Susannah's knee. "Did he let you eat this morning?"

Susannah shook her head and Ana swore.

Andrea couldn't believe what she was hearing. She sat down on the sofa next to Susannah. "Excuse me? You let a man dictate when you eat?"

Ana raised a hand. "Andrea, it's complicated."

"No it isn't complicated. You're an intelligent, highly educated woman. Why are you allowing a man to do this to you? Did all your brain cells fall out?"

"Andrea!" Ana frowned. "Don't you think she might have been through enough already without you delivering your own special brand of sympathy?"

"It's abuse, she needs to get out! I know how bad this can get!"

"I appreciate that," Ana spoke kindly. "I know what you went through. But we need to support our friends, not make life even more difficult for them. Susannah isn't in the situation that you were in, it's a little more difficult."

Andrea was agog. "So you're just going to let her go back to this psychopath then he can keep on doing it? And why focus on her neck? Doesn't that smack of wanting to put his hands around her throat and…"

"Andrea!" Ana stood up. "This is really not helping! Go back to wherever you should be!"

The verbal slap hurt and brought heat to her cheeks. "I was only trying to help," she said with contrition. "I don't want to see anybody hurt. And I would have thought that you of all people Mrs Grey would understand the mental scarring that can be left at the hands of an abuser."

Ana closed her eyes. "I do, Andrea. All too well."

Andrea stood up. "I'll go. If you want the address of the safe house, I have it. They'll look after you. They looked after me."

"Thank you," said Susannah.

Andrea made her way slowly up to the thirtieth floor, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. Arriving in her work space Mr Grey's door was open – he wasn't here. Olivia was here, but she seemed strangely inert. As Andrea approached her co-worker she didn't move and yet Olivia was usually ready with a bright good morning. She was transfixed by whatever was on her screen.

"Hi," said Andrea and Olivia jumped clean out of her skin suddenly flushing scarlet. "Sorry," Andrea smiled. "I didn't mean to make you jump. What are you doing?"

"Just reading." Olivia seemed to compose herself, taking a few deep breaths. Andrea settled herself in for the morning, removing her coat, booting up her computer and setting up her desk for the day. When she looked back again, Olivia had returned to stone. She was reading again.

"What is that?"

Olivia finally managed to turn her head away from the screen.

"What _is _that?" Andrea repeated. "What are you reading?"

"Something that Nadine gave me."

"It's good?"

"It's… unsettling," said Olivia. "I don't know if I can read it all the way through. But then again I don't know if I can't not read it. It feels like putting it down would be turning away from his pain."

"What's it about?"

"A guy, stuck in an abusive relationship."

"Ugh," Andrea shuddered, feeling it shoot down her spine. "I couldn't read that. Have you seen Mr Grey this morning?"

"Who?"

Andrea's eyes widened. "Er…hello? Mr Grey? The boss man. You know, the good looking guy with the nice ass who works out of that office. The one who tells lame jokes and gets angry at the duplex feature on the copier."

"He gets angry at… what?" Olivia looked perturbed.

"Oh for the love of God," Andrea sighed. "It's going to be one of those days. I think I'll just scream down the phone to Luke now and get it over with."

"No..." Olivia was animated now. "Mr Grey gets angry at the duplex?"

"You know he does. He never puts it in the right way."

"Ha! Stephen White in this story can't use the copier, either."

"Well that'll make him feel better, that a fictional character can't do it either. Baffles me that he can fly helicopters but using a Xerox freaks him out."

"Stephen White wants to learn to fly helicopters."

"Good for Stephen White," said Andrea, bored now. "Do you think you might do some work today, or should I bring you a recliner and you can settle in until lunch?"

Reluctantly, Olivia minimized her screen and got up to take the pile of documents down to contracts. "You'd understand if you read it. It's powerful stuff."

"I've no doubt it is," said Andrea. "I lived through it enough times to know how powerful it can be. I don't need that stuff in my head." She got up and went to the filing cabinets.

"The sex you would." Olivia hit the call button for the elevator.

Andrea perked up. "Sex?"

"Yes, lots of sex. Lots of weird, kinky sex. You'd go for that."

The elevator doors opened and Mr Grey walked out.

Andrea concentrated on the files looking for the right one. "Seeing as Charlie's pretty much killed any chance of Luke and I getting down to some weird, kinky sex, then maybe I should read it."

There was silence. Andrea turned her head and wanted to sink through all thirty floors into the basement. "Oh God. Please tell me I didn't do this twice in one lifetime."

Behind Mr Grey, Olivia was corpsing.

"You want kinky sex, Andrea?" Her boss's face was a picture.

Andrea took it on the chin. "Yes, Mr Grey. _Lashings_ of kinky sex. Being a parent, it's what I don't get anymore."

"Neither do I, but I'm working on it. Have you seen Ana?"

The non sequitur threw her slightly. "Um… she's in Susannah's office."

"I guessed as much. Given what just happened I wasn't sure if Susannah would want to see me?" He flexed his hand. "How is she?"

"Honestly? In a mess and in need of a safe house, but that's just my opinion. Mrs Grey seems to think it's more complicated than that."

"It is, but noted. Your experience counts for a lot."

"Thank you," she said quietly. "How's your hand?"

"Sore, but OK. The Doctor just checked it out. Not a great start to the day." His phone chimed and pulling it out he read an email. "Excuse me, Ana wants me to look at something." He went into his office and closed the door.

Alone and with her interest piqued by Olivia's taunt of kinky sex, Andrea scooted over to Olivia's computer and brought up the right screen. Five minutes later and with three phone calls having gone to voicemail she was still reading. Ten minutes after that when Olivia returned, Andrea was still reading. She reluctantly went back to her own desk. "Can you send me a copy?"

"Sure. Addictive, isn't it?"

"I'll say. You know…" Andrea tailed off. "No."

"What?"

"It reminded me of someone."

"Me too. Him." Olivia pointed at Christian Grey's door. Andrea nodded. "It's the phrasing, isn't it? Blake Tyne writes exactly the way that Christian Grey would write."

"He wouldn't have written something like that," said Andrea. "I've been in his bedroom and there's not a chain in sight."

"You've been in his bedroom?" Olivia's eyes rivaled an owl's.

"Yes, long story. It's just a regular room, Liv."

"Hey, what if someone at GEH wrote it and based it on him. After all, lots of us have written silly stories about him in the past."

"Speak for yourself," said Andrea with a smirk

"Says the woman who gave birth right into his hands."

"OK, OK, point taken. But Mr Grey, doing things like that?" Andrea shook her head. "He's far too refined."

Andrea said it but she didn't really believe it. There'd been a drip, drip, drip, of little comments over the last few years. Many years ago now she would never have believed that she could ever have found a picture of his wife's naked butt cheeks, red from a spanking. So who knew how far it went? But she reassured herself with one thing: If Christian Grey really had written a book of this nature, there would be no way that it would be illegally circulating its way around the company. It would be under lock and key.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

**You can now see some representative images of my story over at Pinterest.  
Go to the site and look for TheRachelJLewis/gray-hearts-for-mr-grey/**

**Tuesday**

For a moment he couldn't work out why he was awake so early, and then he remembered. It was his birthday and he was ten! Ted beamed, threw back his covers and scrambled out of bed into the bright May morning that was streaming through the gap in the curtains. He looked at his desk. It was exactly the same as he had left it last night; school books pushed to the side and the airplane model in the centre. His heart sank. He was expecting a card or a gift, or directions to a secret birthday breakfast done in Phoebe's freaky-neat handwriting. He was looking for something to say that this wasn't a regular ol' Tuesday, and that Mom or Dad had snuck in whilst he was asleep and given him a little something to open before everyone else got up. But there was nothing.

He went over to his desk and inspected the progress on his model. There was no chance of him being able to settle to do homework if he had a build on the go, and he was working on a British Aerospace Sea Harrier, which Dad had bought him on their family vacation in Cornwall during Spring Break a few weeks back. When they were at their little house in the south west of England, just him and Dad would get up early and go down to Truro, to spend the day hanging out and stocking up on new models for him to build. Phoebe, Darcey and Mom weren't interested in that stuff and William was still too young to do anything useful. Boy Time, Mom called it and Dad needed it apparently. When he was younger, Dad used to help him build the models, but Ted was now proficient enough to follow the instructions and do it himself. So, all Dad got to see was the moment when Ted brought it down to show it off and it would take pride of place on the living room coffee table until it found a home amongst the other models suspended from his bedroom ceiling. Occasionally, something would catch Dad's eye in the model shop and he'd buy it for himself. Then the roles were reversed and it would be Dad squirrelled away in his study for hours on end.

Ted put on his robe and opening his bedroom door stepped out onto the landing. Everyone else's bedroom door was shut and he thought he was the only one up. Then from downstairs he heard the sound of his Dad's voice. Ted bounced down the stairs and ran into the kitchen. There was no one there and the table wasn't even set for breakfast – which was extremely odd. Whatever else might happen today, he and Pheobe still had to go to school and Mom and Dad still had to go to the office. Mrs Taylor always set the table for breakfast before she finished for the day. Ted ran into the living room but his Dad wasn't their either and worse, there wasn't a single birthday card or gift on the coffee table. Had they forgotten? Surely they couldn't have forgotten it was his birthday? It was marked on the kitchen calendar. Mom had asked them to write in their birthdays, back in January. She'd done hers and Dad's, their Grandparents and Mr and Mrs Taylor's. Ted had written his in large, scrawly handwriting, Phoebe had done her freaky-neat writing stunt and Darcey had crayoned her birthday in October, adding in most of the rest of the week, too. He held back his disappointment and went off in search of his Dad. He found him in his study. He was stood at the window, phone to his ear, already dressed and with hair still damp from the shower. He turned and smiled when he saw Ted and held out his arm. Ted went to his Dad's side walking into the arm that circled around him, rested on his shoulder and pulled him in, enveloping him in the scent that he knew so well. Dad carried on his conversation, talking to someone this early probably meant that it was an overseas call. While waiting, Ted measured himself against his parent. He reached the breast pocket on his Dad's shirt. How long would it be before he reached his shoulder? Then he wouldn't be far off Mom's height. How would it feel to be taller than Mom, nearly as tall as Dad, or maybe, one day, even taller than his Dad? Ted gazed up. He could imagine being taller, but never greater than Christian Grey. Other people may have good Dads, but he and Phoebe and Darcey and William had the best Dad in the world, ever. Fact! He added, parroting Phoebe's favourite word. Finally, the call ended and his dad slid his phone into his pants pocket.

"Good morning, you're up early. I didn't think anyone would be up to see me off, today."

What? His Dad was going away? Did he know what today was? No, this shouldn't be happening on his birthday, it wasn't allowed! "You're going away?" Ted felt unbearably sad.

"Just to London for a couple of days. I'll be back Friday."

"But…"

His Dad looked at his watch. "Sorry, gotta run," he kissed the top of Ted's head. "I'm catching a scheduled flight from SeaTac. The plane's in for routine maintenance this week." Dad let go of him and picked up the large case of papers from the floor and slipped his flight bag over his shoulder. "You have a great week and I'll see you Friday. Look after Mom, the girls and William, for me. Any problems, call me, anytime."

Problem? Yes there was a problem, right here, right now! Surely his Dad hadn't forgotten what today was? But as he walked out of the study, leaving Ted standing forlornly by the desk, it became all too clear. His family had forgotten his birthday and it was just a regular ol' Tuesday after all. His Dad's head appeared back around the door frame.

"Are you coming?"

Unhappy and close to tears, Ted reluctantly followed his Dad out of the study and down the hallway and to the front entrance, where the back door of the car stood open and Kennedy was loading a suitcase into the trunk. His Dad handed the other two bags to his driver and turned back to Ted.

"Hey, what's the matter? Have you a rough couple of days at school coming up?"

Ted shook his head, unable to speak for fear that he might start crying.

"Are you feeling OK?" His Dad placed his hand on Ted's forehead. "Well you feel the right temperature and you look the right colour." His Dad peered at him. "Are you sad at me going to London?"

Sad? No he was angry! Ted shook his head violently.

"Then what's up?"

"It's today!" Ted wailed.

"Yes, it's today. It's Tuesday. I go to the office on Tuesdays. Unfortunately, I have to go all the way to the London one, today."

"But you can't! It's…"

His Dad knelt down.

"It's what?"

"Nothing," Ted grumped, revising his opinion that he had the best Dad in the world. He had the shittiest Dad in the world. What father forgot his own child's birthday?"

"Turn around."

Ted couldn't hold it in anymore and tears budded in his eyes.

"Oops, too much," muttered his Dad, took hold of him by the arms and turned him around. "Look up."

Ted couldn't look up, he was wiping tears from his cheeks.

"Ted, look up," his Dad urged.

He did and through the blur of saltwater, several figures swam into focus. His Mom, Phoebe, Darcey and even William were all standing on the landing and they were holding gifts.

His Dad wrapped his arm around Ted's chest looking up at the rest of the family with him. "You didn't seriously think we'd forget your birthday?"

Ted nodded and his Dad held him tighter.

"We never would, trust me. Happy Birthday, big guy."

The family came down the stairs and piled into Ted, thrusting cards and presents at him. His Mom arrived last, holding William and with his Dad's robe over her arm.

"Mr Grey, you are incorrectly attired for this very special occasion. Pyjamas and bathrobes are the dress code."

Dad took the robe from her and smiled. "Back in a second."

His Mom smiled down at him. This wasn't the glossy, beautifully dressed Mom that everyone else saw, this was his proper Mom - all messy hair and no make-up. Not that he didn't like Mom in her work clothes, but he liked this one better. He could snuggle up to this one. He did it now and she kissed his head.

"Happy birthday my darling. Now, how about a special birthday breakfast picnic?"

He beamed up at her and he knew he was going to have the most wonderful day.

Carefully carrying three beautifully-wrapped gifts, while Phoebe carried another blue one, Ted followed Mom through to the back of the house where he discovered that Mrs Taylor had indeed set up for breakfast – on the floor of the garden room. The coloured streamers overhead, the balloons, the check cloth and the large floor cushions surrounding it were in Sounder Blue and Rave Green – the colours of his favourite Soccer team, the Seattle Sounders. As if that wasn't enough, it was set up with his favourite breakfast; a spread of European meats, cheeses and bread. Of course, there had to be the box of Cheerios for Darcey. Although why she bothered eating at all, Ted didn't know. He loved meal times, whereas Darcey treated them as a major inconvenience. They sat around the cloth with Ted waiting for Dad, who appeared back in his pyjamas and robe and sat down next to him. Darcey immediately crawled into his lap and snuggled up against him. Mom had William in her lap and Ted got a pang of jealousy that he was too tall to do that anymore. Phoebe was never one for showing affection, but if he could get away with sneaking a hug from Mom or Dad, he would do. Not that he would ever let on to his school friends. He liked his parents and they seemed to like each other. They took turns taking him to Soccer practice because they had his sisters to care for as well, not because they couldn't stand each other. He was one of the rare kids at school whose parents were still together and in that, he was a bit of a freak. A freak with a cool Dad who didn't just buy him kits of airplanes to build, but took him out to Boeing and let him watch while they put real airplanes together; and took him to Shanghai where he'd been able to see five ships being built at GEH's shipyards. All the other boys at school just got new things. Ted Grey got new dreams.

But new things were on the agenda and after he had filled up on crusty French bread rolls, German cooked meats and Swiss cheese, Phoebe passed him the blue gift.

"You have to open this one first," she said.

"Why?"

"Mommy said so."

That was a good enough explanation for him and carefully peeling off the tape, Ted unwrapped a white box, which contained a brand new Sounders home colours jersey with 'Grey' and the number 10 on the back. "Thank you!" He said, pulling off his robe and yanking the shirt on over his head. He'd live in it from now on. Phoebe pointed at him.

"Daddy."

"He's there," said Ted, pointing at their Dad.

"No," she stressed. "On the shirt."

Ted looked down but couldn't see the shirt sponsor's logo properly. He pulled it over his head and turned it around. Daddy was indeed on the shirt. Or, rather GEH was. Ted Grey was so happy! Every week he favourite team would be turning out with his Dad's name all over the front of their shirts. There was only one word for it.

"Awesome!" he exclaimed.

His Dad looked a little uneasy. "Is that a cool thing to do?"

"Yeah! Super cool!" it was the best thing ever.

"You hear that, Ana. I'm not just regular cool, I'm super cool."

"Great. Let's hope your head still fits through the door."

To the side of them Mr Taylor's coffee went down the wrong way and made him cough.

"Try not to drown yourself, laughing, Taylor," said his Dad.

The last present wasn't a present at all but an invitation from Seattle Sounders FC to an official presentation this afternoon at their stadium, CenturyLink Field. Teddy's mouth dropped open. His name was written in beautiful gold swirly writing. He thought all of his dreams had come true and then he realised. He couldn't go.

"What's the matter, Teddy?" His Mom handed William to his Dad and came over to him.

"I can't go." He handed her the invitation as she sat down beside him. "I have my party."

"Oh," she mused. "Would you like to go?"

He nodded.

"Well, what say we move the party to CenturyLink Field? I'm sure they have a room we could use."

"You'd do that?"

"Well, I'll call them and find out. Then you can do the two things at once."

"Do you think we could play on the pitch? That would be so cool!"

"Well… um… I'll have to ask the owner." She turned to Christian. "What do you think?"

With her baby brother now nestled alongside her, Darcey stared at Ted as she reclined against Dad, nibbling bits off a square of cheese. She looked like a little mouse. A mouse who suddenly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Darcey!" warned Mom. "So, can he?"

"Play on the pitch?"

Why was she asking him? "Mom, Dad's just the shirt sponsor, he doesn't own the team."

Mr Taylor got out of the chair and walked over to Ted, pulling out his phone. "You might like to see the news headlines this morning." He handed his phone to Ted.

It really was the best birthday, ever!


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

**Tuesday**

Entering the room to find Christian alone, Ana turned the catch on the door handle to lock it. "Let me do that," she said, walking over to him and taking the Seattle Sounders tie from her husband. He turned to face her.

"I can do it myself, you know." He placed his hands on her waist.

"I know." Ana smiled and draped the green and blue striped tie around her neck. "But I've not seen you since nine o'clock this morning and this way I get a little hands-on time with my husband before he has to face the media." She unfolded his white collar and grasping the tie, pulled on it slightly to work it down. Keeping her eyes firmly on his and allowing a faint smile to play on her lips, she slowly eased the tie out of the knot.

"If you keep this up," he whispered, "I'll need to delay the Press Conference."

"That won't be necessary," she said lightly, pulling the tie from around his neck and tossing it to the floor. "It'll only take a minute."

His eyebrow flexed into an arch. "You'll need to bend down and pick that up."

"Oh, I don't think so, Mr Grey," she said, undoing his top button as she distracted him with a bite of her lip. She undid the next one and the next one before Christian looked down and registered what she was doing.

"Hands-on, huh?"

"Um hmm," she replied, reaching the button above his pants. Her eyes returned to command his as she unzipped him and popped the button on the waistband. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulled it out, running her hands back up his body and pushing the shirt aside at. She covered his chest with little kisses, ignoring the scars but inhaling the divine scent of him. Christian ran his hand around to her bottom, lifted her chin with the other and pulled her into a kiss.

"At this rate, I'll be known as the hard man of Seattle soccer," he murmured against her lips.

She pushed away a little, reached down into his pants and stroked him. "You've been harder."

Up went the eyebrow again and he lifted a length of the tie around her neck. "Are you trying to make me tie you up with this and fuck you into the middle of next week?"

She shook her head. "No." Keeping up her intimate strokes, Ana bent forward and placed kisses all the way up his throat to his ear, blowing gently into it. "The end of it," she whispered, pulling back and delighting in his wicked smile.

There was a knock at the door. "Five minutes, sir," said the woman on the other side.

Christian cleared his throat. "Thank you," he said, reaching for Ana's wrist. "Unhand me, woman," he said gently.

She fondled him. "You do know that these are the only balls I'm interested in?"

He nodded sagely. "That's totally fine by me."

"Good," she said, withdrawing her hand and doing up his shirt buttons to his throat. She took the Sounders tie and placed it around his neck, pulling it to the correct length on each side and working it into a knot. She pushed it into place and folded his collar down over it. "There," she said, tapping his collar and admiring her handiwork.

He turned to inspect it in the mirror. "Perfect as always, Mrs Grey." She went to grasp his waistband but he stepped back. "Oh, no, no," he laughed. "I think I need to spend a few minutes calming myself."

She angled her head to the side. "Do you now?" With deliberate slowness she turned away, bent from the waist and retrieved the tie, staying down long enough for him to gasp her hips, stand behind her and press himself up against her. She straightened up, turned around and kissed him. "I'm looking forward to the end of next week," she murmured against his lips.

"It may be here sooner than you think, baby."

She smiled. "I hope so. I'll see you in the room."

**xXXx**

The conference room was packed with rows of journalists as Ana made her way as unobtrusively as possible to a point midway down the room where she stood behind a large video camera for a sports channel. At the head of the room was a long table, covered with a cloth bearing the insignia of the club. Behind it were three chairs with places marked for the former owner, Christian and the manager of the team. Sports wasn't a world that Ana was familiar with or cared too much for, other than supporting Ted's dreams of being a good soccer player, Darcey's dreams of dancing or Phoebe's strange new desire to wield a sword. She couldn't help thinking that the purchase of the team was as much for Ted as it was for Christian. Sure, her husband had the money to invest and support the team's development, but Christian was rarely to be found watching a game and even then, Ted had to explain the finer details to him. Ana suspected this was more about their son's happiness, rather than her husband's.

The door opened again and in came Ted, Phoebe and Darcey, walking ahead of their childminder, Astrid, who had William on her hip. All the children were in Seattle Sounders kit and Ted looked the happiest ten year old boy on the planet. Darcey, faced with a captive audience instantly launched into a dance, whilst Phoebe surveyed the pack of journalists with a look that suggested she was weighing up which one to kill first. Ana had never mentioned it to Christian, after all, he'd have no idea what he looked like when he was in his Dominant role; but his elder daughter could arrange her face into that exact same look of cool detachment. Phoebe's emotional self-control worried Christian and Ana didn't want to give him more reasons to worry about her. It wasn't that Phoebe wasn't affectionate, she was, but only on her terms. What they had missed out on in physical affection with Phoebe they had gained a double dose in Darcey, who would never miss an opportunity to climb into someone's lap and snuggle up. Ana could see Astrid looking for her, so she stepped out from behind the camera and held out her hands for William, who was all smiles for Mommy and she folded her baby boy into her arms.

Coming into the room just before Christian were Carrick, Grace, Elliot and Ethan. No sign of Kate or Mia, but Ana wasn't surprised, they'd be elsewhere with the children. Last of all was David, closely followed by someone who made her smile. He'd plucked up the courage to invite Keeley. So this was the delicious Detective who had made such an impression on their friend's heart? Ana looked her over and saw a smartly dressed woman with a mane of brunette hair and a flush to her cheeks that made Ana think that she and Christian hadn't been the only ones having a private moment before the proceedings. Darcey wrapped her arms around Ana's legs snuggling up against her thigh. Phoebe came to stand on the other side of her, but Ted was at the front, completely spellbound at all the people who'd turned out to see his Dad introduced as the new owner of the club.

Finally, the three men everyone was waiting for arrived and Ted was almost bouncing with delight as Christian took his place in the middle chair of the three. The former owner came to the lectern, camera flashes went off, recording devices were switched on and the Press Conference began.

When it was Christian's turn to speak he went to the lectern and only had to look in the direction of his son and Teddy was right by his side, showing off the new kit with the GEH logo on the shirt fronts. Her brother was getting attention? Well, of course Darcey had to have some of that and skipped over to join him, drawing a laugh from the room when Teddy glowered at her for stealing his spotlight. She replied with a quick poke of her tongue. Christian made a quip about getting used to being upstaged by his children, looking over at Phoebe and inviting her over. Ana could see the pleading in his eyes, that his first-born girl would take her rightful place in the spotlight with her siblings. Phoebe looked up at her Mom, her eyes asking for permission and was that a tiny bit of fear?

"Shall we go up together?"

Phoebe nodded and picking their way through the people, they joined Christian at the front.

"It's my desire that Seattle Sounders continues to be a club that the whole family can come to and enjoy," said Christian, reaching for Ana's hand as the press snapped picture after picture of the Grey family standing together. Darcey completely banjaxed any attempt to have a serious discussion of Christian's investment plans. The room laughed at Phoebe's obvious annoyance at her younger sister's antics. Ana placed an arm around her elder daughter. Phoebe didn't yet understand why Darcey reacted differently to a crowd of people than she did. As for William, happily surveying the room and talking it all in, how would he turn out?

After Christian had gone through the essentials of the deal and outlined his main objectives as the new owner, the family posed for photographs. Christian curtailed his daughter's dancing by scooping up into his arms. With Ana holding William, and Phoebe and Ted standing in front of them the family picture would find its way on to the news sites within minutes.

**xXXx**

Across town, with the refresh of a page, one person surveyed the newly-uploaded picture with particular attention. It projected the very model of the happy family. The smug, satisfied look in Christian Grey's eyes seemed to say 'look at what I have and you don't.' But would there be such fawning over him if they knew that his ability to rescue people from the fire at the Devil's Kitchen that night wasn't down to pure chance, but had been about his familiarity with the place? Would Seattle be so quick to embrace the man who had such a sexually dubious past? Taking a sip from his bottle of beer still hurt from where Grey had punched him. He would get him back for it. It was just a matter of working out where to aim the strike for maximum effect.

"Happy families," mused Scott, carefully taking another sip of beer. "Perhaps soon to be not such a happy family."


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

**Tuesday**

There were two things that Keeley Fox was certain of. No, three, she amended, taking point two to its logical conclusion. Number one; this was the strangest children's birthday party she had ever been to. Number two; she would never be able to think of or look at Christian Grey in quite the same way again, and number three; how was she going to get through the next couple of hours without dragging her boyfriend David off to the nearest room with a lock on it.

The first point was easy to explain. She had never before been to a children's birthday party given by people who were rich enough to buy the venue. Especially when the venue was a sports stadium. But yet here she was. Standing on the touchline watching twenty-two ten year old boys have their own private game of soccer on the pitch, watched by their families, club officials and several specially invited members of the media. David was enthusiastically cheering on Ted's team, while Keeley's eyes kept finding their way to the birthday boy's father.

She was a woman of the world, she knew that these situations existed and being a Detective brought her into contact with far seamier things and people than Christian Grey. The revelation of having had previous sexual experiences that he didn't like to broadcast to the nation, was not uncommon. It was almost a cliché in the realm of the rich and famous. Harry Marsh had told her that his wife knew all about it. But how many other people knew about the women before Ana Grey? David was a close friend, did he know? What about Christian Grey's parents, his brother and sister who were also standing on the touchline cheering on the blue team; did they know? She was damned sure the media didn't. There'd be no way he'd have gotten away with parading his family before the cameras without them contrasting it to his previous life as a sexual deviant. Up until last night she could have imagined all sorts of things about Christian Grey, what he used to do and more importantly, why he did it. That was before she lost every second of sleep to reading _White Tower. _

It had started innocently enough. She'd finished her current book and not being disposed to get out of bed to select another one, she'd reached instead for her tablet and the ebook that still languished in her email account from Sunday. So Beth rated it highly enough to sneak away to read it and disobey a direct order from Marsh? She'd read it for a half hour.

Or an hour.

Perhaps two.

Maybe another chapter?

Can't leave it there.

Five from the end.

Keeley Fox read through the night and into a dawn that would never be the same.

It was completely coincidental, she knew, but she now couldn't separate the character of Stephen White from Christian Grey. She knew that there was no way that Grey would have had such a traumatic start in life, or allowed himself to be so completely dominated by a woman – and a close family friend at that. The guy was your classic case of a rich and powerful man exerting that power over women for his sexual gratification. But yet, there was something in the disturbingly natural prose of _White Tower_ that made it feel to her that she wasn't so much reading a work of fiction as having accidently been sent someone's personal diary.

With sleep temporarily banished by the ingestion of enough caffeine to power the sun, Keeley made it into the office and started work again on the old case files, pausing now and then to reassure herself that Stephen White wasn't anyone in Seattle. It was a matter of convenience that she'd started with Christian Grey. After all, he was slightly connected to the Silvestri case so a little poke around in his past during Police time could legitimately be seen as doing a thorough background check. Just as long as nobody pointed out that they'd already done it and ruled him out as a suspect. It was there that her unease started. Grey was adopted, just as Stephen White had been. He was in trouble as a teen, just as Stephen White had been. He'd started a successful business at the age of 21, just had Stephen White had, although she dismissed the idea that the money had come from his Dominatrix, who, feeling her hold on him slipping, was trying anything to keep him in her grasp. Keeley stopped there, struck by the increasing similarities and concerned that digging into the official records of Christian Grey's adoption might yield information that nobody other than him, his wife and close family should know.

Tuesday had been a very long day. She'd tried to concentrate on her work, but found herself slipping away to the ladies' room to read passages of _White Tower_ again. With her Psychology training, her head wanted to read again the descriptions of what was done to White and how that affected his view of himself and distorted his relationships with people. She wanted to understand that aspect of him as much as other parts of her body were craving a different type of understanding. The experience of spending the day in a state of sleep deprived arousal _over a book_ was a new one on her and it was a state that had to have a resolution or she would self-combust. Then David had called to invite her to his friend's kid's birthday party of all things and the blessed relief that she didn't have to make a booty call mercifully resolved itself. Attending a rich kid's birthday party aside, Keeley had determined that three things needed to happen. Firstly, she needed David to fuck her to an orgasm. If he could do it right here on the pitch, all the better. Secondly, she needed a very long sleep and thirdly, she needed to find a brain surgeon to sever the neural pathways that kept linking Stephen White to Christian Grey. All sense dictated that it couldn't be him, but her brain had already decided that what she'd read last night bore every hallmark of authenticity and was looking to apportion it to a real person. With the three things that had matched up with Christian Grey her brain had unhelpfully joined the rest up and now she couldn't stop staring at him. Worse, his wife was on her way over!

David laughed. "My big sister's coming to see you."

"What?" Keeley's distracted head scrabbled back into the moment.

"Ana. She keeps an eye on me and of course, anyone I'm with." He grinned. "Are you familiar with the Spanish Inquisition?"

"Not personally." Keeley looked at the glamorous and gorgeous woman picking her way along the touchline to them. "Is this where I get warned not to fuck around with you?"

As she looked, David's eyes lost all amusement. She was astute enough to understand that he'd been hurt before and this was probably the warning that if she did the same thing then hell would be unleashed.

Anastasia Grey smoothly got through the introductions and disentangled Keeley from David, sending him off to chat with Christian.

"I'm so glad you could come," she said.

"It's a pleasure," said Keeley. "We got called in on Sunday, so I had a few hours in lieu. Although, this is by far the most bizarre kid's birthday I've ever been to." Both women turned to watch Ted Grey tearing down the pitch to the goal posts, the ball kept skillfully close to his feet.

"Come on Teddy!" Called his Mom. They kept with the action and Ana Grey's arms shot into the air as her son made it past all the defenders and slammed the ball into the back of the net.

"Is that two now?" Keeley was unsure of how many goals she'd seen.

"Three," said Ana, smiling at her. "Walk with me."

Keeley glanced over at David. He wasn't looking her way, he was still cheering Teddy's goal with Christian, while between the two men Darcey twirled trying to get their attention. The older girl, Phoebe, was stood a little to the side fighting an imaginary opponent with a plastic sword. Neither girl was interested in the soccer successes of their brother, birthday boy or not. The baby was being cooed over by his Grandmother. It was all a very domestic and very happy life, a far cry from the images of submissives and abuse that her brain had linked him with.

The birthday game was being played on half the pitch and the rest of it was empty, affording privacy for Ana Grey to issue her warning.

"David tells me that you're a Detective and that you're working on the Faye Silvestri case. How's it going?"

"We're making progress." It was all she could say without compromising herself.

"I know that you've spoken to my husband about it."

"Mrs Grey, his movements that night are all accounted for by witnesses and the time stamps on security cameras."

"I know. I was thinking more along the lines of what speaking to him uncovered. The nature of his relationship with Mrs Silvestri and the others, I mean? That information isn't widely known and certainly not by his family or David, for that matter." Ana stopped walking and turned to face her. "It's a lifetime ago and Christian would like it to stay that way."

"Ma'am…I."

"Call me Ana, please. Addressing me as Ma'am makes me feel old."

"You can be reassured that the information will remain confidential."

"Thank you. I know what the press would be writing if they knew. But while they may revel in sensationalist headlines and sordid tales, the truth of that time is underpinned by a number of deeply personal issues that Christian has worked very hard to overcome. I don't want it thrown back in his face when people can't get past what he once was, to the reality of what he is now. Labels stick, Detective Fox and there's no label stickier than that of 'abuser.' Especially if it's tossed around without explanation of what are defined sexual practices between consenting adults and true abuse."

Keeley's heart skipped a beat as another link between Stephen White and Christian Grey was made in her head.

"You have my word. It won't get out."

"I hope not, Ms Fox."

Keeley looked over to Christian Grey. "But he's very happy and successful, now."

"He was always successful. He works hard and he has a good head for business. The happiness was harder work, but he's there." She gave a small smile. "That's why he does things like this. He's determined that our children's memories will contain nothing other than the very happiest moments and the very best that our love for them can provide. Money isn't an issue, Ms Fox. Parents quickly learn that children get more pleasure in doing things with the carton, than they do from the expensive gift that was in it." She gestured to the stadium. "Same principle here. Ted doesn't care about investments, expansion plans or profitability. All he wants to do is play in a stadium-shaped carton."

Keeley Fox looking around at the very notion of the huge stadium being likened to a cardboard carton. Ana Grey turned away to continue their walk.

"He's not the only person who's had a difficult few years and I'm sure as soon as I walked over you knew that I might say something like this."

"I did," she admitted.

"Christian and I have known David for just over seven years, ever since he took the apartment beneath ours in Escala."

"He told me that it's where you met."

"This didn't happen a lot back then, so you need to understand how unique it was, that he and Christian got on and I encouraged it. Christian didn't have many people he could call a friend, so I was so pleased that he found someone in David that he could do things with; sailing, fishing, going for the occasional beer, etc. We know him well, we know the pain that his leg gives him from time to time and we also know the pain that his heart gives him." Keeley looked at her blankly. "Oh," continued Ana. "I take it he hasn't mentioned Alice?"

"No." Keeley didn't know how to proceed.

"I'm sure he will do, in time."

"It's only been a week," said Keeley, trying to speculate who Alice was. "Did she break his heart?"

Ana shook her head. "No."

"Is she his daughter?"

"I shouldn't have said anything. You need ask him about her." She rolled her eyes. "Listen to me. Imploring you not to expose Christian's past and then glibly exposing David's. I'm a hypocrite." Ana looked at her. "It's nothing…" she sighed. "No, I mustn't say more. It's for David to tell you. It's probably best if you don't let on that you know. I'm sure he'd be upset with me. Anyhow, what I should say is that Christian and I have his back, so don't…"

"Fuck with him?"

They stopped walking.

"Well guessed, although I shouldn't be surprised," said Ana. "David needs some love and some honesty. He's not had much reason to trust people, lately. I hope being with someone who professionally searches for the truth means that she seeks out that same truth, privately."

A roar from the crowd and the celebrations from the players indicated that someone from the blue team had put another one into the net. Keeley couldn't tell at this distance whether it was Teddy Grey again.

"Let me give you something to cling to," said Ana. "When I met Christian, it became clear very quickly that he was a complex man who I felt like I'd gotten in over my head with. A friend, who could see a bigger picture, told me that he was a good man. In spite of the difficulties that followed, I held to that and found it to be true. Now I'm saying the same to you. David Brannigan is a good man. He just has a few issues."

"Alice?"

Ana Grey gave a laugh. "If only."

Just then from the corner of her eye a familiar figure caught her attention and Keeley Fox spied Harry Marsh striding down the touchline towards them. "What's he doing here?" she wondered pulling out her phone and seeing the four missed calls. She'd switched it to silent. "Oh fuck," she muttered.

"Problem?"

Keeley sighed. "There will be." This couldn't be anything other than bad news.

Marsh didn't miss a beat, launching straight in with his tirade at fifty yards out. "Why do you people have cell phones if you don't fucking answer them?" His anger was visible, all the more so because he'd gotten a haircut, a shave and more of his red skin was on show.

"Sir, this is a children's birthday party."

"I know what it is, but we have to go."

"But you gave me the time off."

"Well, this is me un-giving it to you because murderers don't observe your vacation time. Your presence is requested at a crime scene, Detective Fox."

"Can't Sparshott go instead?"

"He's already there."

There was something Marsh wasn't telling her and she knew him well enough to know that it wasn't just because there was someone with her it was because of who that person was.

"Yes sir." She turned to Ana.

"I'll let David know you had to go."

"Thanks," said Keeley. "Tell him I'll call him."

Marsh gave an audible huff and set off back down the edge of the pitch. Keeley stared at him for a moment.

"Thank you for the warning and the advice," she said to Ana. "I promise, I won't hurt him."

"Thanks. I hope to see you again soon."

"Me too," she said and took off after Marsh.

**xXXx**

She bent her head under the tape that was crossed over the doorway and entered the neat bedroom of the apartment where a similar sight to one that she had been met with only ten days previously met her eyes. Ryan Sparshott was standing by the window looking out, his hands encased in plastic gloves were clasped behind his back.

Marsh and Fox stood silently at the foot of the bed, feet covered with plastic protectors. They were noticing same tying, the same gagging the same disarray under the woman that suggested a struggle, but her legs were splayed out neatly. Placed into position after death.

"Pretty much identical," said Marsh, pressing the gloves more firmly into the spaces between his fingers. "Right," his voice was a sad sigh. "She's known to us, but just to start things off correctly, what do we know?"

"Ola Marjek, that's spelt M-A-R-J-E-K. Thirty six years old. Born September 26th 1987. Discovered by her sister, Kamila, who had just returned from the hospital. No sign of a forced entry on the apartment door."

"And this is definitely the same woman who was part of the group with Silvestri?"

"Yes, sir," said Ryan. "I interviewed her myself."

Fox looked at the woman lying inert on the bed. Her eyes were open and her long, brunette hair was fanned out over the pillow. She pretty much knew what the next words out of Marsh's mouth would be.

"Get Grey in." Yep, there it was. "And his wife."

"What?" Keeley was taken aback.

"His wife," he repeated. "Two of his former submissives are now dead and you think we're not going to question his wife?"

"She was in Australia ten days ago and for fuck's sake, you just saw her at her kid's birthday party!"

"That doesn't mean she doesn't know something about it. And I notice that you were there. So from this moment onwards, until we can adequately explain the deaths of these women, you will not contact or associate with the Greys."

"Fine," she snapped.

"Or anybody they know."

"What the…"

He pointed. "You will not contact or go anywhere near David Brannigan."

Behind Marsh, Sparshott winced. He knew how much that would hurt her. There really weren't words for this.

"OK," she whispered. "OK," she repeated, vowing to work day and night to solve this case.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

**Tuesday Evening**

The words were swimming on the page in front of her when the thump of a fist on a desk pulled her back into the room.

"That's it, enough. I'm off," said Ryan, tossing his pen onto the desk and slinging his jacket over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." He strode out of the office and no doubt into the nearest bar that had a sports channel and a cold beer. Keeley looked at the time, it was approaching eight o 'clock and since leaving the crime scene, the last hour had been a complete waste of her time. She closed the file, straightened her desk, rose from her seat and feeling the tiredness in her arms, lifted her coat from the rack and grabbed her purse from under the desk. She walked past Marsh's office.

"Goodnight, sir," she said.

"Goodnight," he replied without lifting his eyes from his own stack of paper. "Remember what I said," he called after her.

"Yeah," she sighed, plodding slowly out of the office, each leg feeling as if weights were strapped to them. The building was quiet, only a few people were still around at this hour and she made it out into the warm evening without exchanging another word with anyone. She threaded her tired arms into her coat and placing the strap of her purse over her head set off on the short walk to her apartment, admitting to herself that as she was too tired to stop by the grocery store, that her food options came down to a grilled cheese sandwich. That was OK. She was way past hunger. She just wanted to sleep.

"Keeley."

She turned back to find David sat on a bench that she'd walked past without noticing.

He stood up. "You look tired."

"I am. It's been a long day. A very long day."

"Do you want to grab a bite to eat?"

She shook head. "I'm really not hungry."

"Glass of wine, in bed, at my place?"

She sighed and dropped her head. "I'm sorry. I can't." She lifted her head, taking in the beautiful sight of him. There was nothing that she'd rather do other than drift off to sleep in his arms but that option wasn't available to her.

"Your place then?"

She managed a weak smile. "Not in a million. My place is a pit compared to yours."

"Well, a bar then. I know a place that serves a particularly fine Sancerre."

She closed her eyes. She really wanted to be with him. "I can't," she repeated. "It's not that I don't want to, it's just that… I'm working on a case and…well… being with you is a little awkward right now. Professionally, I mean. Not that I wouldn't take you up on any offer in a heartbeat."

He frowned. "I'm not aware of anyone who's currently under investigation by the Seattle Police Department."

"I'm sorry, I can't talk about it."

"Am I under suspicion for something? I'll quite happily submit to your questioning." His lips parted into a smile and she wanted so much to kiss him. She returned the smile, stifling a yawn at the same time.

"Sorry. You're tired," he smiled. "Can I at least walk you home?"

She turned to look down the sidewalk. There was no one there. Who would know if he did?

"Sure," she replied and they hadn't taken half a dozen steps before his arms were around her and she was leaning up against him and fighting a losing battle with her own personal arms of Morpheus.

When they got to the entrance of her apartment block she scrabbled in her purse for her key, taking a couple of goes to get it into the lock.

"Thank you," she said, reluctantly pulling away from his firm, warm body.

"You're welcome. So, when can I see you again?"

"I don't know. It could be a few days, a few weeks, even."

"Not months I hope."

"I hope not."

"Can I call you?"

She bristled inside. She wanted some contact with the guy. But Marsh had forbidden her to contact David or go anywhere near him. And then she laughed, her head pulling out the obvious. He'd forbidden _her _to make the moves. Marsh hadn't said anything about David being the one to call or being anywhere near her. It was pedantic, but it was a way around the stupid imposition.

"Can we rewind a little?"

"Sure. To when?"

"The glass of wine in bed at your place, thing."

"OK."

She tried to straighten herself up. "If you promise not to look too closely at the state of my apartment, or care too much that the Sancerre is just regular old Pinot Grigio, do you want to do that here?"

He thought about it for a moment. "Sure."

"OK. But I'm warning you. I got absolutely no sleep last night, so if you're expecting scintillating conversation or sex, even, you could be out of luck."

He stood close and bent to kiss her. "This will be enough."

"And…" She bit her question about Alice back.

"What?"

She smiled up at him. "It'll keep." She took his hand. "Ready to see how the rest of us live?"

He rolled his eyes and smiled. "I'll be brave."

**xXXx**

**Wednesday**

Loaded down with bagels and coffee for everyone, Keeley rushed into the department. It had been her turn to collect the breakfast order.

"Sorry, sorry, I overslept," she said, failing to be entirely truthful about the reason for her lateness. Sleeping had definitely not been involved, but she had still been in bed, although things hadn't quite gone to plan. Refreshed and feeling slightly more human, her thoughts had drifted back to the sex scenes in _White Tower. _But whispering what she wanted him to do to her brought their lovemaking to an awkward halt.

"Briefing in five," glowered Marsh, his gruff voice yanking her back to reality from the remembrance of David's horrified face. "Fox, in my office, now."

Grabbing her own coffee and saving her bagel until later she followed Marsh into his office.

"Close the door," he said, pulling a series of photographs out of a file. He didn't ask her to take a seat so she placed her coffee on the filing cabinet. Marsh stood behind his desk. He was strangely unfamiliar with his neat hair, shaved chin and for the second day in a row, a pressed suit.

"Are you deaf?"

"No sir."

"Are you stupid, then?"

She folded her arms. "Not to my knowledge."

"Well something's awry in your head because I'm at a loss to explain this." He threw down a copy of a shot from a security camera which clearly showed David and Keeley talking on the sidewalk outside the station the previous evening. "And this." Another shot, this time of them walking past a Pizzeria a few blocks away. David's arms were tightly around her. "And what part of 'don't associate with him' explains this." The last photograph was a still of them going into her apartment last night. "Are you deliberately defying me?"

"No sir, but…" There was a more pressing matter to her mind. "Are you checking up on me?"

"That's not the issue here."

"I think it is." She picked up the top picture. "Other than royally pissing you off because I did something you asked me not to do, what law am I breaking, here?"

"It isn't a matter of the law, as you damn well know. It's a matter of doing the right thing and more importantly, to be seen to be doing the right thing. Integrity is everything. Who said that? Oh yes, your father! I really couldn't give a shit who you sleep with, unless that affects the investigations we're working on. As of this morning your sex life does affect this investigation. I can't wait to hear what David Brannigan told you he was doing before he met up with you yesterday, because he was pictured leaving Ola Marjec's apartment at 1.34pm yesterday afternoon. Marsh threw the security camera photograph down on the desk in front of her. "And with Christian Grey, no less."


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

**Wednesday**

It had been by far the most intense day that Keeley Fox had ever experienced and it was going to get a great deal worse before it got better. Marsh wasted no time in setting up interviews for the three people he most wanted to talk to and right now David Brannigan was in one of the interview rooms with two other detectives from the department. Marsh had been adamant that she neither see him nor contact him until they had his side of the story in place. On this occasion she was willing to comply, partly out of respect for the investigative process and partly because she was afraid of what his side of the story might be. She didn't have time to sit around and brood on it, though, as while David was being interviewed back at the station, both Christian and Ana Grey were going to be interviewed at Grey Plaza.

Arriving in the vast entrance, the group split up. Ryan Sparshott and Beth McCready were assigned to interview Ana Grey, whilst Keeley and Harry Marsh were interviewing Christian. The first time she had met him Keeley had felt intimidated by the billionaire. All that she'd ever known about him came from his business dealings, his attendance at society events and the imagined lifestyle of an extremely wealthy man. Now she knew him a little better, had seen how very ordinary he was around his wife and children and the sense of intimidation had gone. It had been replaced with awkwardness that she was interviewing a friend. Not that she was a particularly close one, but she understood that with David being allowed to invite her along to their son's 10th birthday party, she had been admitted into a very select group of family and friends.

The elevator brought them to the floor and they stepped out into a very different reception area than they had seen at the company's previous premises. Gone was the feeling of working in a futuristic space station. Grey Plaza was now big on plants, colour and soft furnishings. Keeley recognised Andrea Sawyer, his Executive Assistant. She had seen her at the party yesterday with her husband and two children. She had seemed wary and unsettled yesterday and she looked just as uneasy today. There was barely time to exchange pleasantries before the two detectives were shown into Christian Grey's office.

"Wow." The word was out of Keeley's mouth before she could stop it as she took in first the size of the room and the views over Mount Rainier on one side and Puget Sound on the other. Christian Grey gave a wry smile.

"One of the perks of the job," he said walking forward with an extended hand. He shook Marsh's hand and then Keeley's. "A pleasure to see you again, Miss Fox. Come and sit down."

The three of them took a seat on the sofas and Mr Grey's other assistant brought in coffee. Keeley's heart was pounding in her chest, afraid of what she was about to hear.

"Mr Grey, thank you for agreeing to meet us so quickly."

Christian Grey's countenance was serious. "There's no need to thank me. What person wouldn't be clearing their schedule to help you to find a serial killer?"

"I wish all people gave our enquiries such priority. Sadly, it isn't always the case." Marsh settled himself into his seat. "Mr Grey, the last time we met was in relation to the murder of Faye Silvestri. From security footage and witness statements we know your exact movements from that night and we know that you had nothing to do with the murder of your former…" Marsh hesitated over the right word.

"Submissive, Mr Marsh. I'm comfortable with the term and I make a very clear distinction between the relationships I had with Mrs Silvestri and the others and the relationship that developed between my wife and I."

Marsh shifted in his seat. "Can I ask, and this isn't an official question, it's more out of personal curiosity. On paper, I mean photographic paper, they all look pretty much the same. So what was it about her that was different?"

Christian Grey took a deep breath and exhaled, his mouth curving into a gentle smile.

"I can't give you a clear answer, Mr Marsh. All I can say is that on the day that I met her, I thought I was looking for more of the same. Like you say, on photographic paper she does look very similar to the women that I was with previously. The reason why is not something I wish to share with you. However, her looks are where the similarity ends. My life was well controlled and I conducted relationships with women who complied with that control. Let's just say I pursued a woman who didn't and I had to learn a whole new way of living my life so that we could make it work."

"And it does - from what I've seen," added Keeley.

"Thank you Miss Fox."

"Yes, well…" said Marsh, patently uncomfortable. "Let's get back to the matter in hand. According to yesterday's schedule that your assistant sent over this morning, you left Grey Plaza at 12.30pm yesterday and returned in time for a meeting at 2.00pm. Would you explain to us where you were during that time, Mr Grey?"

Christian Grey looked at Keeley.

"I'm sorry that you're going to hear this from me. David should be the one to tell you about it, but circumstances have intervened to prevent that." He sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "Yes. David Brannigan and I did go to Ola Marjec's apartment yesterday, but we left her in good health and in the full expectation that either he or I would be meeting her again in a few days' time."

"Why were you there?"

"About five years ago, David started a relationship with Ola's younger sister, Kamila. It didn't last that long but about four or five months after they'd split, David got word that Kamila was pregnant and naturally enquired whether he was the father. Kamila said no and that she had also been seeing somebody else at the time and she was pretty sure it was the other guys. David didn't pursue things until about 18 months ago, when a chance encounter with Kamila and her daughter made him question that, by how much she resembled David's sister, Elizabeth. Elizabeth Brannigan has a very distinctively shaped ear and Alice Marjec has a similar-shaped ear. He didn't share this with Ana and myself at the time but got back in contact with Kamila to discuss what he suspected. Miss Marjec did not react well to David's contact and refused to discuss it with him, insisting that Alice wasn't his daughter. He tried again, several times and discovering that Kamila had moved back in with her sister after losing her job, he made the offer that if Alice was confirmed as his daughter then he would willingly support them both financially. On Sunday night, frustrated that he couldn't even get Kamila on the phone to talk about things, he finally came and unburdened himself to us. He wasn't aware that I knew Kamila's sister and neither was he aware that my first action after he left that night was to find out everything I could about Kamila Marjec and her daughter. I'm glad that I did. She was fired from her job for frequent absences. Absences that are now wholly explained by appointments at Seattle Children's Hospital where Alice is receiving treatment for Leukemia. David didn't know, so I told him. You can say I was wrong, but if that was one of my children I would want to know and more importantly, I would want to help.

"Kamila is a private woman who is determined to support and care for her daughter by herself. Being unemployed now, healthcare isn't as straightforward as it would have been, so David wants to pay for Alice's treatment, but Kamila won't let him.

"I contacted Ola on Monday and agreed a meeting between her, David and myself on Tuesday lunchtime. We were in the apartment about a half hour and having established that it would be useless to try and get Kamila to accept a financial gift, directly, Ola agreed to accept the money from David to pay existing bills and a sum for any future treatment. It was a private arrangement between David and Ola, Alice's parentage is an issue that can wait. And that, Detective Marsh is the truth. I'm sure Chase can furnish you with the financial transaction detail, which I believe happened within the hour." A silence fell over the room and Keeley exhaled, suddenly aware that she'd been holding her breath. So Alice was a very sick little girl who David believed was his daughter. At that moment she wanted to run across the city and hold him.

Marsh cleared his throat. "Well will have to corroborate this against Mr Brannigan's account."

"Of course," Christian nodded.

"Could you tell us more about your personal relationship with Ola Marjec? Did you know her well?"

Christian Grey's eyebrows raised. "Miss Marjec and I had a sexual relationship for six months, during which time I came to know aspects of her very well. However, if you're referring to whether I know what her opinion of the Democratic Party is, or what her favourite music, books or restaurants are, then no, Mr Marsh, I don't know her at all. Prior to yesterday's meeting and seeing her again in this office just a few nights ago, the last time I had seen Miss Marjec was in 2008 as she left my apartment at Escala."

"Really?"

"What do you imagine that I do, Mr Marsh, keep them on retainer?"

"I don't know, but the fact that they all met up together and then you meet them right here in your office. It seems a little odd, don't you think?"

"They meet up once a year and it had had been scheduled for months. My running into them was a complete coincidence and would never have happened if I had been able to sleep that night." Christian Grey got up and refilled his coffee cup and those of the detectives before sitting back down.

"Did you pay for that meeting?"

"Yes. Mrs McDowell paid the restaurant bill and will be reimbursed through the course of her usual monthly expenses. My wife settled the hotel bill directly."

"Your wife?"

"Yes, we share accounts."

"And she's happy with this?"

"Yes, Mr Marsh. It wouldn't happen if she wasn't OK with it. Nothing happens unless Ana is OK with it. Well, apart from me buying the occasional soccer team, but she understands why I did that."

"And you invited Miss Fox here to the announcement of it and to your son's birthday party. A little intimate isn't it for a woman you hardly know?"

The billionaire gave Harry Marsh what could only be described as a hard stare and Keeley blushed. Her boss definitely had something against Christian Grey. She put it down to jealousy.

"Mr Brannigan was already attending, so we invited him to bring along Miss Fox, because Ana wanted to meet her. Do you have a problem with Miss Fox being friends with us?"

Harry looked at her. "I guess not," he said, but his face didn't say so. He stood up. "Excuse me, I need to call Detective Sparshott."

Marsh stepped out of the room, leaving Keeley and Christian alone.

"I'm sorry you had to hear it from me," he said gently. "David would have told you. He called me this morning as soon as he got the request to be interviewed. He knew that there would be little chance of him being able to tell you in person before then."

"I wouldn't have been able to talk to him. So Alice might be his daughter?"

"Yes. And from what I've seen of her, I completely understand why David thinks she is. She's very like him, but for some reason Kamila won't acknowledge it, or agree for her to be DNA tested so that it can be verified independently."

"And she's really sick?"

"Yes. David will pay for her to go to Boston Children's Hospital and my mother, who's a retired Pediatrician, agrees that it's where Alice should be. Seattle are good, don't get me wrong, but Boston are better. He'd given Ola enough money to make that happen if she could get her sister to agree to let her pay for it. Kamila's had a checkered financial history and she's just clawed her way out of a lot of debt, so she doesn't want to rack it up again. Boston just isn't an option in her mind. We hoped a little sleight of hand on Ola's part could convince her otherwise."

"And do the Doctors think she should be in Boston?"

Christian nodded. "Having spoken to some of her former colleagues, my Mom says yes. It would tear me apart if that was one of my little girls." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "And now Ola's dead, so not only is Kamila having to cope with her daughter's illness, she has this, too." He stood up, reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his phone. "Excuse me, I need to take this." He walked swiftly away from her to the far corner of the room and answered the call.

He spoke quietly and trying as hard as she could not to listen, she concentrated instead on looking around his new domain. His previous office at Grey House had been stark and forbidding, reflecting a singularity of purpose and providing no hint of his personality. This space, while much larger seemed more intimate and definitely carried the reflection of the man she had briefly seen away from the office. A nearby section of wall was put aside for family snapshots and framed drawings done by his children. His call was protracted and so getting up she walked over to it, smiling as she looked at each photograph in turn and discovered the sweetness and happiness radiating from them. As she reached the end Christian came and stood beside her, reaching forward to hook a brand new photograph into place. It was of Teddy taken yesterday.

"How can I be the father of a ten year old? Where did the time go?"

"My father said something similar when I turned 28, although he never had a wall of pictures in his office."

"It doesn't mean I love my children any more than your father loves his, it's just that I need mine to know that when I'm at work, or I have to stay late so I miss dinner, or bedtime stories, that I'm thinking of them."

"When I was speaking to your wife, yesterday, she said that you wanted your children's first years to be filled with nothing but the happiest moments." She thought to the abuse that the fictional character of Stephen White had suffered as a small child. Could she dare ask him if he too had suffered? "Does that reflect your childhood?"

The world seemed to hold its breath as Christian Grey closed his eyes.

"No. I was adopted by Grace and Carrick Grey and they did their best, but before I reached them a lot of damage had been done."

Keeley could hardly breathe at the revelation. "I'm sorry," she whispered."

"Amazing how easy that was to admit. Ten years ago my wife had to almost pry the truth out of me with tweezers. Now I'm OK in admitting that things happened that weren't my fault and that I was just a little boy in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The door opened and Marsh returned.

"Your story checks out with what Brannigan has said and Sparshott has already validated the transfer of money into Ola Marjec's account. We can officially rule you both out."

"I'm very glad to hear it Mr Marsh."

**xXXx**

Taking the opportunity to use the ladies' room before they left, Keeley walked in on Andrea Sawyer hurried shutting an e-Reader.

"Good book?"

"A worrying book," Andrea admitted. "I don't know what to do about it, although I can't put it down right now, it's like I'm addicted to it."

"I've got a book like that. What's yours?"

_"White Tower."_

"That's the one!"

Andrea's eyes were wide. "Oh my God, how did you get it?"

"A co-worker."

"And have you passed it on to anyone?"

"No."

"Then do me a favour, don't."

"Why?"

"Because…"Andrea seemed to pale before her eyes and Keeley understood that she too was picking up on certain things. Things that Andrea Sawyer might know more about than most.

"Have you noticed a number of similarities between Stephen White and Christian Grey?"

Andrea nodded. "It's not just that," she said, moving closer to Keeley. "It's the way it's written. It's his very formal and very erudite phrasing. If I imagine him reading it out it's exactly the way he would speak or write. But I can't believe for one second that he would ever write this or let it spread like wildfire among us. He's far more relaxed than he ever was, but Christian Grey is still a very careful and very private man. To get anywhere near his close circle of friends or for him to confide anything at all about himself to you, he has to trust you implicitly. But the clincher for me is one moment when White is detailing the abuse he suffered as a child and I cried when I read it, because I know that it's exactly what happened to Mr Grey."

"He told you what he went through?"

"No. He showed me the scars. Miss Fox, how do I stop this? More to the point, how the hell do I tell Mr Grey that this book is out there and it seems to be about him?"

"Has he ever said he'd like to write a book?"

"No, and if this is his story, then he really shouldn't be disclosing it in this much detail because everyone's going to think he's a freak."

"Perhaps it's just a few people?"

Andrea looked at her as if she was stupid. "You clearly don't know the complete chaos that Christian Grey can cause by just walking through an office. This book has kicked the obsession levels around here into the stratosphere."

The door opened and Susannah McDowell came in. She looked upset.

"Detective Marsh is waiting for you."

"Thanks." Keeley turned back to Andrea. "See what you can discover about the source. You know where I am." She turned to Susannah. "I'm sorry about your friend."

"Thank you. It feels…" she shuddered. "Which one of us will be next?"

"We're working as hard as we can."

"I know. And while you're at it, can you locate my husband? Not that I want to talk to him. I just want to know where the asshole is so that I can serve him with divorce papers."


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

**Thursday**

Sloan was still asleep as Scott McDowell eased his way out of her bed. He'd laid low at Petra's in the aftermath of Monday's incident outside Grey Plaza and now, after swinging by his house to collect some things, he'd decamped to Sloan's place, brushing off her over-attentive ministrations to the bruises with a shrug and a half-hearted explanation for their presence. He was unsettled, he didn't want to talk about it and neither did he want to spend too long in any one place. He wasn't aware of any upgrade in his status to becoming 'Seattle's Most Wanted,' but Susannah had called his phone enough times for him to know that she was keen to speak to him. He just didn't want to speak to her, right now. What could he say? There was absolutely no evidence for him to act this way, but yet all he could do was turn it over and over in his mind, allowing his jealousy of Christian Grey to create an even more septic heart. He knew he would have to see Susannah again, but he just wanted to return to being a reasonable person before he did that. It was proving to be harder than it looked.

He used the bathroom, taking a minute to inspect his injuries in the mirror. His lips were still swollen and the bruising from his broken nose had resulted in purple discolouration around the eye sockets. It would be gone soon enough, it was just a matter of keeping his head down until the worst had faded. His likeness to a dog skulking away to lick its wounds only added to his misery over this.

Unlike Sloan, Petra hadn't asked questions, although his rage on Tuesday evening after he'd seen the happy family picture of the Greys had provoked an angry mutter of 'what is your problem' under her breath. Yes, he asked himself. What was his problem with Christian Grey? He was jealous of the guy. Not of what he had achieved through his own hard work – that wasn't something Scott had an issue with. It was more that Christian Grey had what Scott wanted. The happy family life and he thought he'd get it with Susannah. But jealousy is a pernicious weed and left unchecked it was now strangling the very life out of their marriage. Not only was he still jealous, he was now filled with anger at himself for being unable to control it. The sensible part of him was screaming for him to fix things up with his wife. But there was little of sense left and what there was, was repeatedly drowned out by the desire to deal a return blow. He could sue Christian Grey for assault, but any decent lawyer wouldn't have to work too hard to get at the simmering resentment beneath McDowell's skin.

Returning to the bedroom he dressed and heading down the kitchen, made himself some coffee, recoiling when the small figure of Sloan's daughter Cassidy appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Good morning," he said formally. Cassidy was clutching a well-loved toy rabbit by the neck, its body hanging limply from her hand.

"Do you live here now?" He voice was high and had an annoying nasal quality to it.

"No," he replied, adding 'thank God' to himself.

The little girl stared at him. "You're not my Daddy."

"I don't want to be your Daddy." Cassidy Sharp was precisely the kind of whiney, bratty kid he hated.

She rubbed her nose with the back of the toy rabbit's head. She looked tired.

"You want some coffee?"

She shook her head. "I want milk."

"Please," he stressed.

Cassidy muttered a reply.

Taking his coffee and catching up with the news via his phone he watched the day begin in the Sharp household, with Sloan, blonde hair neatly arranged in a chignon, fussing around the little girl and making plans for a playdate.

"Do you want to invite Darcey Grey?" she asked.

Cassidy nodded.

"OK, we'll give her the invitation on Saturday." Sloan looked over to him. "You're welcome to come," she smiled.

"When?"

"It's a week Monday. At Ruby's Diner. Cassidy loves their burgers and they have the best play barn."

The thought of an entire barn full of screaming whiney little girls made him shudder, but he gave a considered smile. "I'll think about it," he said, standing up and collecting his keys and jacket. "I have to go, now."

"Oh Eddie, so soon?" He was getting used to being called by this wrong name and he was constructing a persona to go with it.

"I have work to do," he said, sidestepping Sloan's embrace.

"Another deal to close?"

"Yes and before lunchtime."

"What is it today?"

He wished she would stop asking so many fucking questions.

He picked something out of the air. "Semiconductors."

"Really? You'd get on well with my brother. He's in R&amp;D at National Semiconductor."

"I don't make 'em, I just sell 'em."

"Whatever," Sloan smiled. "Will you be back tonight?"

"Possibly. I'll see how it goes."

"OK, well, you know where I am. Door's always open."

He smiled. And so were her legs - just as he liked it. Although he'd bring a gag next time, she made far too much noise. Plus, if she was going to be useful to him for the plan that had just blossomed in his head, she'd need some intensive training. He needed to know that he could control her. But first, he had to get one part of it in place and he gave Sloan enough of a kiss to make out that he would be back.

"I'll see you soon."

Sloan gave a languid smile and bit her lip.

**xXXx**

Across the city Harry Marsh was finding Thursday a tough ask. He'd been a neat freak for five consecutive days and the charade was making him cranky. He'd spent three years admiring the very gorgeous Keeley Fox from afar and then the very week that he plucked up the courage to do something about it, i.e. smarten himself up, she'd gotten her first boyfriend in nearly two years and her father had been drafted in to resurrect some cold cases. Murphy and his Law had impeccable timing and therefore he could be forgiven for being a little pissed.

Not just any boyfriend, either. David Brannigan. Seattle's most eligible bachelor and son of America's most famous Equestrian couple. With his good looks and his money, Brannigan was a thoroughbred. Whereas Marsh, in comparison, was a graying, heavy-drinking, overweight Donkey. Perhaps even an Ass.

He'd given in to his obsession a few times over the years and spent evenings following her, to find out where she hung out and who she hung out with. He found the answers to be nowhere and no-one. So, to discover that Keeley had gone to a gallery opening by herself was so out of character that he'd almost asked if she was sick. Watching her getting out of the cab and walking into Escala with Brannigan that Saturday night had been the worst moment of his life. Not that he'd ever tell her. Marsh was fated to suffer in perpetual lonely silence.

Harry looked up from the computer screen he'd been blankly staring at to find Keeley stood in the doorway.

"Yes?" He was overly gruff with her.

"Have we completed the interviews with Kamila Marjec?"

He was unsurprised that she'd asked. If it had been him he'd have been angling to get down to the hospital too.

"For now," he said. "But if there's anything more, you'll understand that it might not be a good idea for you to be the one to speak to her."

He heard her exhale.

"I guess," she sighed.

"If you're looking for something to do, you could check in with the rest of Silvestri and Marjec's group of friends. Ask them to report any…"

His words were interrupted by Kendall Fox. "Now, Marsh," he said, in a tone that elicited an instant response from both Keeley and Harry. They followed him into a briefing room where the rest of the team were already convening. Fox senior stood behind the lectern.

"Thank you for assembling so quickly," he said. "I wanted to share this with you as soon as we could establish beyond reasonable doubt the links apart from the DNA between the old cases and the recent ones.

"Whoever this is, is careful to place the women in a certain position. This seems important to them for some reason and is unusual marker of control and attention to detail. I believe that we would see the same markers throughout that person's life."

"Get Grey back in," said a junior detective and there was a ripple of laughter. True, thought Harry; Christian Grey was a major control-freak, but there was no way he could have been linked to the first two murders, the guy would have been too young. Plus, they had quickly excluded him from the most recent two. However, it was interesting that he was there as a matter of circumstance. Were they dealing with someone who was trying to frame the businessman? Someone who perhaps knew of his past and was exploiting it? But why? The call to get Grey back in had been treated as a joke, but perhaps it wasn't a bad idea.

Kendall Fox continued. "While we can't know for sure the sexual proclivities of the two women who were murdered in 1995, there is enough in the files that suggests that they were linked to the BDSM scene, albeit in a loose way. There were no membership records of them in any of the clubs in Seattle at the time. However, both Silvestri and Marjec had definitely been involved in those kinds of relationships, although not any more. Neither appears on the membership lists of any of the current clubs and in the case of Silvestri it's clear that her husband was unaware of the nature of some of her previous relationships. We may be dealing with someone who has kept urges at bay for many years and then something has triggered them again. If we are to believe that the four murders were committed by the same person, then I'm confident that we're looking for someone in at least their 50s and I'm pretty sure it's a man. We now have the same DNA present at the scenes of all four murders, just no name to go with it. So, when we identify a person of interest we need to make sure that those DNA swabs get tested as soon as the labs can do it, because we will be making a quick arrest."

Fox dismissed the group and the chatter was akin to a pack of excited dogs. Their blood was up, they had picked up the scent and were on the hunt. Harry Marsh smiled. Narrowing the focus was what they needed to yield results and catching the killer was now only a matter of time.

**xXXx**

The elevator opened and Christian got out, turning right and walking down the hallway. As he reached the door, it opened.

"Thanks for coming," said David, pulling the door of his apartment wider to letting him in. "I won't keep you long, I'm sure you want to get back to Ana and the children."

"It's not a problem. I was half expecting it," he smiled. "And besides; it's always good to have an excuse to come back to Escala."

"You miss it?"

"Sometimes, yes." Christian removed his jacket and draped it over the back of the sofa.

"Beer?"

"Please."

David opened two bottles and handed one to Christian. The men took up positions on either side of the wide granite breakfast bar.

"As days go, I think I'll try and forget yesterday," David studied the silver foiled label on the bottle.

"Yes. I'm sorry that you weren't the one to tell Keeley about Alice."

"It was you, so that's the next best thing. I know you would have stuck to the facts."

"Have you spoken to Keeley?"

"No. She sent me a message about an hour ago, said she'd call me this evening."

"Are you worried that the situation with Alice and Kamila might sour things?"

"A little," David took another sip of his beer. "Hey, I didn't manage to say earlier. I'm sorry about what happened to your friend."

Christian pursed his lips. "I don't think friend's the right word. She was…" he shrugged. "Someone I knew."

"An old girlfriend?"

It was Christian's turn to stare at the label. "Kind of."

"It was good of her to agree to help, even if she didn't manage it."

"In time the money will go to Kamila, so it will get to her, eventually."

"Knowing her, she'll try and give it back," David sighed. "It was good to finally hear from Ola about why she thinks her sister's being so pig-headed about me helping or acknowledging that I'm Alice's father."

"David, you can't know that for sure without a DNA test. Speculation isn't helpful."

David scoffed. "You can't fail to see the similarity."

"Yes, but that means squat in a court of law. Lots of people look like each other, it doesn't mean they're related."

"True, but Alice is mine, I just know it."

"Then right now, you need to let Kamila know that you'll be there for her, whenever she needs you and whatever she needs you for; then just back away. She's got enough to handle without you hammering on the door trying to see Alice."

"I'm not hammering on the door," said David, expressing his irritation. "Anyway, what makes you the expert on difficult relationships? You're Mr Happily Married. You and Ana never fight."

Christian laughed. "I am sorry to disappoint you, but we do. It's usually about some gross overreaction on my part," he admitted.

David put down his beer and braced his arms on the counter top. "Speaking of gross overreactions…"

Christian kicked out a bar stool and sat down, David did the same.

"I don't think Keeley's distance from me today is entirely down to having heard about Alice."

"Oh?"

David turned the bottle around in his hands glancing up at Christian now and again. "This is difficult to talk about."

"Well, let me help you. The words Keeley and gross overreaction. To me that says that either you did something she didn't like, or she did something that you didn't like."

"The latter," he closed his eyes momentarily. "I know I've only been with her for like, 5 minutes, but she lights up my boring universe like a supernova. She's witty and intelligent and fifty shades of fabulous, but…" he shook his head and took a sip of his beer.

"But..?"

"I can't do that, Christian. I can't do what she wants."

"And what does she want?"

David shifted in his seat and picked at the corner of the label on the bottle for such a long time that Christian thought that his friend had become oblivious to his existence.

"She wants me to…you know."

"No, I don't know. Mind reading isn't one of my skills."

"Take charge," David mumbled with embarrassment. "You know, order her about. Make the rules. Be… Dominant."

Unseen by David because he was staring at the counter top, Christian smiled. The silence in the room was broken by the blare of a horn on the street far below.

"And you're not comfortable with that?"

David shook his head. "I wouldn't know where to begin."

"So, this isn't because you don't want to do it, but because you don't know how to do it?"

"Exactly. I googled it earlier," he sucked air through his teeth. "Bad move. It's all about stuff that I…"

"It's not about _stuff_ at all, it's about _her_." Christian's subtle change of tone made David stare. "The general assumption in a Dominant / submissive relationship is that the Dom is the one with all the power. While they may be the one to make the rules, they can only enforce them if the sub agrees to it. You can't do whatever the hell you like to Keeley, because that would be abuse. However, if the two of you can be honest with each other, and I mean ruthlessly honest, then you can agree boundaries beyond which neither one of you will go."

There was more silence and the beer and the bottle label were forgotten. Opposite, David's brow was furrowing as Christian could see him trying to process the direction the conversation had turned in and then he saw the growing realization in his friend's face.

"Ask me the obvious question, David."

The words played on his lips for a few seconds before he could voice them. "Are… you a Dominant?"

"I have been. I wouldn't class myself as one now."

"You and Ana?"

Christian shook his head. "No. What we do is more akin to role play." David didn't say anything. "Are you shocked?"

"I don't think shocked is the right word. I'm not appalled by it. I'm… just really curious."

"It's only natural to be curious. But it's not something you instantly become. It takes time, effort and a large degree of training yourself before you ever touch a woman. So if you and Keeley are just a flash in the pan, then it won't be worth your while." Christian took a sip of beer. "I'm aware that this is going to change your opinion of me. But I am not ashamed of it."

"I wouldn't expect you to be," David straightened up. "It's something I'd like to explore. Not just for Keeley, but for myself. Would you consider teaching me?"

"It depends. Will you keep this strictly between us, not even telling Keeley until I determine that the time is right?"

"Yes."

"Will you allow me to shape and mould you into the person that I need you to become?"

"Yes."

"Will you give your whole self over to that process?"

"Yes."

"Then I agree teach you and you will address me as Sir."


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

**Friday**

"Should you be in today?" Ana peered at her increasingly gaunt-looking PA.

"I'm fine," Hannah replied, pushing a stray lock of hair back behind her ear.

"You don't look it."

"I'm just tired, that's all. I haven't been sleeping."

"You've been in early and stayed late all week. Why don't you go home at lunchtime?"

Hannah shook her head. "I'm OK. Really."

"Well if you need it, the offer's there. I'm not aware that we're especially busy right now. We have roughly the same number of books going out this month as we usually have. Is everything alright at home?"

Hannah gave a weak smile. "Yes. It's still just me and the cat and that's how I like it."

"OK, but burying yourself in work doesn't make problems go away. If you need to talk, I'm here."

She walked back to her office, hoping that Hannah would take time before Ana had to order her to take it. She couldn't fault her work, if anything, her PA was even more ahead of the game than usual. But there was no need for her to be in the office every waking moment and act as if she was trying to punish herself for something. Ana checked her calendar just as Hannah announced that Christian was here. She stood up, took a deep breath and smoothed down her skirt. She was meeting her new member of staff. Borrowing a phrase from Christian's cricket-mad counselor, John Flynn, her husband had bowled a _googly_ last night.

"You're doing _what?_" she gawped, needing him to repeat the information that he'd lightly dropped into their conversation. She was unsure whether she'd heard him correctly.

"I'm teaching David about submission and domination."

She had. Ana scrambled up onto her knees beside him in bed and tried to focus on which question to ask first.

"Why? How?" She thought of his packed weekly schedule. "When?"

"Why? He asked me to. He has no self-confidence and I think it will help with that. But mainly it's because it's what Keeley wants."

"What Keeley wants? You're not going to teach her, are you?"

Christian shook his head. "No. This isn't going to be me and you all over again."

"Good. Because don't think I didn't notice that she's your type." Ana gave him a knowing smile and Christian rolled his eyes.

"Ancient history," he said, reaching for her hand. "How?" he continued, "I'll be the master, he'll be the student. I thought we'd stick with the traditional learning arrangement." She ignored the sass. "When? That depends a little on you."

"On me?" She was even more curious now.

"Yes. Is the internship in your office still needed?"

"Yes."

"Then I have just the right candidate. He's fresh out of college… well, nine years ago, reads voraciously and is willing to do anything you ask him. I need him to have a job, Ana, and David's never had one, so he's going to have to start at the bottom. I'd like him close, somewhere where it's easy for me to drop by and check on his progress. GEH has filled all its intern posts for now, Grey Construction is fully-staffed, but I know that you're recruiting." He flashed a smile and she couldn't help smiling in return, noting his faultless reasoning. To Christian it was a done deal. Grey Publishing needed an intern and he needed a job for David. But…

"Is he… subbing for you?" she asked. "I mean…in _that_ way?"

"No," he said firmly. "There are many things for him to discover about himself and the role before we get onto the practicalities. This isn't about turning him into what I used to be, it's more about the type of thing we do. Role play within a framework."

Ana moved off her knees and curled up beside him, Christian's arm circled around her and pulled her close.

"But even so, it's incredibly intimate and he'll need to learn to do things, just as you did. Will you take him to Xavier's new place?"

"No."

"But..."

"Ana, there's a lot you can do with the right video clips and good written instructions. Besides, half the fun will be Keeley and David experimenting for themselves. My part will be making sure that David's role is firmly anchored in love and respect for Keeley rather than anything to do with…" he tailed off. "I want to make sure that that he's not coming to the table with issues." Christian reached for Ana's breast, coaxing her nipple into response as only he knew how. "Being able to make her come because he knows which bits of her body respond best can be discovered by trial and error."

"But in _White Tower_ you wrote that somebody demonstrated to you where and how to touch a woman. It reads like an instruction…" she broke off. Christian was grinning at her. "What?"

"I hadn't thought of it like that," he said, "but you're right. _White Tower_ is an instruction manual. I'll get him to read it."

"Christian, I…"

He took hold of her hands. "We've known him a long time and we consider him to be one of our closest friends. I'm happy for him to know the truth."

Ana loosed her hand from his and ran the flat of her palm over his chest, over the scars he bore from that truth. "Only you can make that decision."

"I know. And I think it's time for me to open up a little."

Ana rolled onto her back, reaching for him. He knew what she wanted and moved on top of her.

"Speaking of opening up a little," she murmured, spreading her legs, feeling his hips between her thighs and his hardness closing in to take her. "Every good teacher needs regular practice."

He looked into her eyes. "He does. Yield, baby. Give yourself to me."

"It will be my pleasure. Sir," she added.

"Yes, your pleasure. About that…"

Her eyes closed and her head rested back and she gave a moan of bliss as Christian eased into her.

The sweet memory of last night cleared to give way to the sight of her husband's amused face. He was standing in her office doorway. He knew what she was thinking about. The man could read her as well as he could read any book that Grey Publishing produced. Behind Christian was David and behind him, Simran and Molly were catching flies as they stared at the handsome visitor to their offices. She knew that David filling the vacant fourth desk in their group would go down very well.

"Come in," she said, greeting David with a kiss on the cheek. Christian shut the door behind them and then moved to claim a longer kiss, his hand discreetly running over the curve of her behind. His eyes were still alight from their morning lovemaking, before he'd disappeared early to supervise the neophyte.

Christian and David sat down in the chairs on the opposite side of her desk and it was evident that Dom 101 had been about personal appearance. David Brannigan was no slouch sartorially, but even Ana had to concede that improvements had been made to bring him into line with Christian's own exacting standards. His hair had been freshly cut, his beard trimmed, straggly eyebrows had been tweezed and his fingernails displayed the sheen of a professional buffing. He looked as if he would be more at home on the top floor of GEH than on the top floor of Grey Publishing where the dress code was rather more relaxed. Ana pulled the job description up on her computer screen and prepared to brief her new employee on his role.

**xXXx**

At his desk David Brannigan was still in the middle of the oddest twenty four hours he had ever experienced. He hadn't for a minute appreciated that learning the skills of being a good Dominant required an understanding of being a good submissive. He was still uncomfortable. Not from the clothing, He was used to wearing suits, but from the realization that giving his whole self over to the process meant that Christian Grey now had control over when he went to bed, when he got up and not leaving his apartment until he'd eaten an adequate breakfast. This morning he'd also had to let Marco attend to his hair, his beard, his brows and his nails. He was to attend Coolwater Men's Salon every week and place himself under Marco's personal ministrations. It was a level of self-care that David had previously neglected, favouring a pair of scissors, an ancient emery board and an electric beard trimmer when needed. The only thing that had met with Christian's approval was David's selection of suits. Those he had in abundance.

There were also sanctions. Keeley was now off limits during the week. He was allowed to call her or email her, but his physical time with her would be restricted to Friday through Sunday night and starting this evening, he had been tasked by Christian to design a weekend that placed Keeley uppermost in the arrangements. He was to report back with his plans at lunchtime. Before then there was the excitement of starting work in his very first job and he was aware that he was grossly overdressed for it. Not that it was of any concern to Christian… sir, he corrected. David now did things to Mr Grey's standards and his new teacher cared not one jot what the world thought of that.

David sat a bank of four desks pushed together. They were separated by low-level dividers and beyond each sat a woman, each giving David surreptitious glances. He could read them well enough to know that none of them knew quite what to say. But Molly broke the ice first and kept the conversation going when her questions yielded a stunning piece of information.

"You've never had a job?" Her eyes were wide.

David's smile was sheepish. "I've never needed a job."

"And you need one now?"

"No, I just want one now." That wasn't the truth, but his quest for this process to culminate in better sex with Keeley strangely required a job and a manicure. This, explained Mr Grey, was because Dominants were highly responsible people who made a meaningful contribution to the society and didn't spend their lives at art gallery openings and gala performances of La Traviata. Hmm… did Keeley like Opera, he wondered? Or would a film be more her thing?

He was now one of Ana's Editorial Assistants working through his first batch of fiction submissions from writers looking to be published. He already knew of Grey Publishing's commitment to championing new talent in the Pacific Northwest and Ana herself had passed him several new books on release that she thought might appeal to his reading taste. But nothing had prepared him for the document that Mr Grey had sent him early this morning, which had come with the warning that barring changes in names and certain details, it was pretty much the truth of Christian's own development as a Dom. He wasn't to let Keeley have sight of it and was to be kept strictly to himself.

David couldn't help but noticing the very fragile state of Ana's PA and among his new co-workers, they too were increasingly concerned by her appearance. She'd lost weight, her skin was pale, there were dark circles around her eyes and the slightest shock made her overreact. Danielle, who sat across from him glanced over at Hannah every new minutes and shook her head.

"She needs to get over it," she muttered. "It's only a goddamn book."

"Yes, but what a book," said Simran. "So glad you didn't keep that to yourself."

"You can tell who's reading it now by how many times they go to the restroom," said Molly. "Naomi's got it at the moment."

David had noted the woman in question had spent the entire morning turning various shades of pink. She headed back into the office now and walked by the desks.

"Got to the part where he turns the tables, yet?" Simran asked and Naomi promptly went puce. "Haha, yes," she said in response to the vibrant colour change.

"Holy fuck," the pink-cheeked woman hissed. "How will I ever be able to concentrate again?"

"I'm nearly back to normal," said Molly. "Although Lance is getting a little sick and tired of me upping my demands in the bedroom," she laughed. "What can I say? When a girl discovers that hot chocolate fudge sundae could be on the menu, she ain't gonna settle for plain old vanilla anymore."

"Amen to that!" Simran leaned over the desk and hi-fived Molly.

Hannah came over. "Would you _please _keep your voices down!?" Her tone was low and threatening. "If Ana…" Danielle grabbed the PA's arm and shook her head at her. There was a low exchange between them and first Hannah and then Danielle's eyes flicking to David made him understand that they didn't want what they were discussing to reach their boss's ears from him. Hannah went back to her desk.

"She needs to chill the fuck out," said Danielle. "She's making way too much of this. She passed on a book not secrets to North Korea." Danielle looked at David. "So what flavour do you like? Chocolate, raspberry swirl, or vanilla?" As he decided, she ran her finger along her lower lip, measuring him against an invisible standard.

"Actually, I'd go for the hot chocolate fudge sundae," he smiled.

"Would you, now?" she replied, fixing him with a carnal smile that told him that if satisfaction wasn't to be found with Keeley, then Danielle would be more than accommodating. "Seems we have something in common."

Not likely, he thought, imagining instead the woman he wanted to share a hot chocolate fudge sundae with. He smiled. That would be one thing for the weekend.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

**Saturday**

"Please Mommy?" Darcey's earnest face implored her to say yes to the invitation, but there was something in Sloan Sharp's demeanor that told Ana that it wasn't Cassidy Sharp who particularly wanted Darcey to come and play, but her mother who wanted to crow that she was on playdate terms with the Grey family. "Please?" repeated Darcey, twirling Ana's shirt button under her fingers.

"We'll have to check the calendar, pumpkin." She needed to buy herself some time to be able to decline the invitation with a reason.

Sloan handed her a card with her cell phone number on. "Just give me a call over the weekend. Cassidy would love her to be there. They're such great friends."

Ana couldn't confirm that they were. In dance class Darcey only wanted Madame Courel's attention and outside of it never gave Cassidy Sharp so much as a mention. She cajoled her jumping bean of a daughter into her jacket as Madame approached.

"Mrs Grey, how lovely to see you." Sandrine placed the lightest of kisses on Ana's cheeks, filling the air with the scent of elegant Givenchy perfume. "As ever, Miss Darcey is a little star."

Darcey Grey rewarded Madame with a smile the width of the Grand Canyon and immediately set about repeating the nimble changes and her exquisitely-pointed toes for one so young. Ana found it hard to believe that Darcey was her daughter. Not blessed with such natural co-ordination herself, it must have come from Christian. Madame placed a hand on her shoulder and guided Ana away from the other parents.

"I would like Darcey to move up a class from next week to see how well she copes. She is such a talent and you must see that everything here is beneath her, non?"

Ana glanced at her daughter. "I will have to trust your judgement, Madame and also how Darcey feels about it."

"I think it's the right decision, but we will see next Saturday."

Ana collected Darcey's things and trailed her scampering little girl out into the hallway where Phoebe was already waiting. Her feet remained firmly on the ground as her little sister jumped and bobbed around.

"Stop it," Phoebe snapped at her.

"Phoebe," Ana warned, drawing her grumpy daughter to her and feeling her little arms snake around her waist.

"She's always moving," she griped, pressing her face into Ana's stomach.

"And you're always reading," Ana stroked Phoebe's hair. "She likes to do different things to you, it's not wrong."

"I wanna quit dancing."

"I want to," Ana corrected. "And we don't quit. Quitting implies that we're giving up or giving in. We choose when to stop. You agreed to give it two more weeks until the end of the semester."

"OK," Phoebe personified reluctance.

Ana took hold of both girl's hands and together they walked out into the parking lot. Closer to the car Darcey wriggled free and bolted.

Phoebe leaned closer to Ana. "Miss Parker had to tell a man to get out…"

"Darcey!" Only her timely shout prevented the little girl twirling into the path of a fast-moving dark blue SUV departing from the lot at speed. Ana rushed over to her, turning to get the licence plate of the car, but it was too far away for her to read. "Asshole," she muttered, reaching Darcey and bending down to fold her into her arms. "What have I told you about running off?"

"Sorry," came the little voice pressed up against Ana's shoulder.

Ana drew Phoebe into the hug and tightly held two of life's most precious gifts to her. When she released them Sloan Sharp was standing beside her. She stood up.

"I saw that," she said. "I got the licence plate." Sloan handed her another business card with it written on.

"Thank you," said Ana, taking it from her.

"No harm done?"

"Only to my wits," Ana, stroked Darcey's face.

"I hope you can make Monday. It will be great to see you outside of here and get to know you."

"It wouldn't be me who would bring her, it would be our childminder."

"Well I hope Darcey can come. Cassidy's so excited about going to Ruby's."

"Can I go Mommy? Please."

To prevent having her arm twisted by the world's most adept parent manipulator, Ana said goodbye and got the girls to the car.

"We'll check when we get home," said Ana. "There are four of you to consider and I just want to make sure that there's nothing else on the calendar before I say yes." Ana had no intention of saying yes, but for now, Darcey was satisfied.

At home Christian had already returned from taking the boys to Ted's soccer practice. Outside she could hear the thwack of boot on ball as their eldest boy had a kick about with Jason. Christian was sat on the living room floor with William. Darcey barreled into him knocking their baby boy to the carpet in her exuberance.

"Woah!" Christian righted William again and comforted him.

"Sorry," said Darcey, in a singsong tone, wriggling deeper into the well of his body. Phoebe folded her arms with a look of indignance and Ana sensed that their elder daughter's plan to slowly inch her way into her Daddy's lap had been thwarted. Ana sat down next to Christian and reached for Darcey. This time Phoebe didn't hesitate. Above her head, with his eyes wide with love and wonder, Christian enjoyed the rare snuggle as if he'd received the most precious gift in the world. He wrapped his arms around Phoebe and held her tightly to him as all three of them focused on William's careful examination of his brightly coloured Duplo bricks.

"So what's the plan for today?" Ana asked. "Do you have any commitments for Project David?"

Her husband smiled. "No. He has his plan for the weekend. I'll catch up with him for breakfast on Monday. How do you think he did on his first day?"

"He did great. He's already a favourite with Danielle, Molly and Simran. As he's extremely widely read, it won't take him long to spot the hallmarks of a good story. They can be a cackle of witches at times, so you need to make sure he's on message about discretion."

"The necessary paperwork is in place," he smiled. "Hey, is everything OK with Hannah? She looked really sick."

"She tells me she's fine. Something's preying on her mind, I know that much, but she won't tell me. I guess I'll just have to wait until she does. Her work's faultless, but she looks as if she's working herself into the ground and I don't know why. We're nicely steady at the moment. The big spike doesn't come until September when we're preparing for the pre-Christmas book release."

"Will mine be out then?"

Ana smiled. "Depends how much time you want me to spend in the office. More time working means that your book will be out quicker. More time loafing about on the living room carpet with you guys and it will be spring."

Christian pursed his lips in mock contemplation. "Can I have both?"

"Not if you want me to stay awake for more than thirty seconds when we get into bed."

"Ugh. Compromise. I hate it."

She tapped his knee. "It will be ready when it's ready and I hope I'll have hidden your identity deep enough," she sighed.

"What?" Christian took her hand.

"Some bits are so hard to read. I know you've told me everything, but sometimes how you've expressed it in words makes it hit home all the more." She squeezed his hand hard. "I love you, Christian Grey."

"And I love…"

"No." she covered his mouth with her fingers. "Don't say it back to me. Just take those words into your heart and believe them. Always believe them, Christian, because they'll always be true."

"I love you. Daddy," said Phoebe, completely unprompted. She wriggled around, stood up and clasped her arms around his neck.

"I love you too, sweetheart" he said, his eyes wide in surprise at her new-found affection.

"I love you Daddy!" Darcey was not to be outdone and added herself to the daughter pile, standing on Ana's leg in the process.

"Ow," she muttered and scooted round to William as the girls tackled their Daddy to the floor, before shrieking with delight as Christian tickled them. If they tried it on him he'd always stop their hand and soften it with a kiss. It was something he simply didn't like being done to him. But that didn't extend to being the one to administer the tickles. In that he took great delight.

**xXXx**

"Hey, great to see you. It's been months." He'd escaped to grab a beer but Scott McDowell was pleasantly cheered by the presence of Zack Malone. "How's the life of a Police Photographer?"

"Grim," Zack admitted. "With flashes of gruesome. How's the life of the Picture Editor of the _Seattle Times_?"

Scott thought of his current mindset. "Equally grim," he said and extended to the mess that his marriage was in. "Equally gruesome."

"Yeah," said Zack. "Sorry to hear about you and Susannah. I hope you guys can straighten things out."

Scott shook his head. "I don't think so."

"I guess brawling with her boss wasn't exactly the wedding gift she was looking for. Are you going to press charges?"

"Nah." Scott sipped his beer. "The guy's not worth it."

Zack frowned. "He hit you. He's a billionaire. He's totally worth it."

Scott looked at the young, impressionable man. "He can afford the best lawyers and he'll just wriggle out of it. Find some loophole that means that he was totally justified in throwing a punch. It's my fault really," he admitted. "I goaded him into it." His face was split by a too wide smile. "It was nice to see him lose that veneer of cool. We finally saw the truth within."

"The truth within? Punching people? That's hardly Christian Grey."

"Really? Check back through the _Seattle Times_. He wasn't always so in control of his temper. Looks like the control is slipping. Perhaps if more of it dropped away and they knew what he was really like, then people wouldn't be quite so quick to hold him up as some shining example. As the gold standard of manhood; whether that be as a husband, a father or as a successful businessman."

"And you know what he's really like?"

"I know things about him that he wouldn't want in the public domain."

Zack huddled closer to him. "So do I. Speaking of public domain, did you see the last upload from _Quilcene_ on the Seattle Photography Club website?"

"The one with Susannah? Yeah, I saw that."

"It was an amazing shot. I think everyone's agreed on that. It's gone viral, naturally."

"It has?" With his preoccupation with Christian Grey, Scott hadn't kept his ear as close to the ground as usual.

"Sure." Zack pulled out his phone and searched for the picture. He handed it to Scott. "There you go. Over 850,000 shares around the world."

Scott stared at the number in disbelief.

Zack laughed. "That's almost a million people saying a collective 'wow.' He's a talent and no mistake. Do you know him?"

"No."

"We should invite him to meet with us." Zack stowed his phone. "So the other girls she's with in the photo?"

"Her friends?"

"Do you know why they're friends?"

"Yes. But if you think I'm telling you, you're sadly mistaken." Scott smiled.

"It's OK. I already know. We have a shot of them all with Grey that came in with the Silvestri case. No wonder you're antsy with the guy. Her boss is her ex master – or whatever it is they call these people. Weird huh?"

Scott froze as he worked hard to control his rage. So his gut instinct had been true, after all. There had been something between Susannah and her boss. She'd lied to him in her list of previous Doms and now all his planning and plotting over the last few days felt completely justified. He was going to pay her back for that and wipe the self-satisfied smirk off Christian Grey's face once and for all.

"Could I get a copy of that?" he asked. "It does have my wife in it, after all."

"Sure," said Zack.

"Cheers," said Scott lifting his beer. "Here's to friends."

The men clinked glasses.


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: **_Reading your theories in the reviews is fascinating. Occasionally someone nails it and exposes a little nuance that I thought I'd buried too deeply for anyone to spot. So congratulations to "SA Warm Croissant" who guessed why I'd given Troy West the username 'Quilcene'!_

**CHAPTER 31**

**Tuesday**

Keeley finished her morning bagel. It had been Ryan's turn to collect breakfast although she didn't know how long the department's tradition would continue should her father be working with them for an extended period. Kendall Fox believed that breakfast was something you ate before you left the house. He didn't agree with this practice of starting your working day and then getting something later. Her Dad liked to eat his meals at a table, preferably with family conversation and a background of Vivaldi. Growing up, dinnertime was a little flexible in the Fox household, particularly if he got called out to an incident. But, the family breakfast had been a fixed point from which the rest of the day flowed. Her Dad wasn't in the office to witness everyone eating this morning. From his expression earlier, he looked preoccupied.

Taking their beverages through to the conference room, Kendall Fox appeared and took a seat to the right of Harry Marsh, arranging his papers and tablet computer in the familiar neat stack. His coffee mug was placed on a small circular coaster. Everyone else's was leaving ring marks on the wood.

"Good morning," said Marsh and there was a mumbled greeting in return. Against the odds he was maintaining his new-found style, although today there were hints of the old Harry coming through. His chin had a day's worth of growth, his hair looked a little ruffled and his suit looked like it had been slung over a chair when he took it off last night. "I see the photograph from Faye Silvestri's funeral is everywhere," he continued. "Even the _Seattle Times_ featured it on Saturday, alongside details of Ola Marjec's murder. It's given some welcome visibility to our investigations into the murders of both women. I'm going to be meeting with a reporter later today to highlight the links between these murders and the unsolved cases from 1995. It's vital we do all we can to prompt people's memories."

Ryan raised his hand. "Are we satisfied that the guy who took the photo doesn't have anything to do with it?"

"I am," said Marsh. The _Bremerton Journal_ is a little old-school and keeps time-sheets for its staff. On the night of Faye Silvestri's murder, Troy West was up in Keyport, at the decommissioning celebrations for the Navy depot there. There was no way he could have been anywhere near it"

"And on the afternoon of Ola Marjec's murder?"

"He was in Suquamish."

"And outside of that?" Ryan pressed. "He's a young, reclusive artist. If this was airport fiction he'd be the murderer."

"He categorically wasn't," said Kendall and all eyes turned to him. His tone was emphatic. "We are looking for the same person who carried out the two unsolved homicides in '95, I would stake my reputation on it. But it's interesting that you highlight airport fiction. Do we have any keen readers among those we've interviewed? Any bookcases full of crime fiction in the living room? There are a lot of markers of someone who is familiar with Police procedure and knows to clean up after themselves."

There was silence around the group.

"I don't recall anything," said Keeley. "But then again, we didn't interview everyone at home. We interviewed Silvestri's co-workers at the school."

"At Roger Carter's insistence, I understand?"

"Yes," Keeley sat up, she recognised the subtle change in her Dad's tone of voice. He had made connections and those connections usually yielded the truth. Hunches were for lesser Police officers. Examining the evidence and looking for what people were trying to hide from you, was Kendall Fox's specialty.

On the large screen on the wall, Marsh called up the list of interviewed people from the school.

"All their alibi's check out," he said.

"Even Roger Carter's?" said Kendall.

"Yes. He was in Keyport with Troy West at the Navy Depot Decommissioning event."

"We should check that again."

"The Depot Commander verified it."

Kendall shook his head. "Check again. Did the Depot Commander really know who Roger Carter was, or had he been blinded by clever photography on a pass?"

"What?" Sparshott too sat more upright in his chair.

"Back to the picture that appeared in the _Seattle Times_." Kendall Fox called it up on his tablet and transferred the picture to the screen on the wall. "What do you see?"

"The women," said his daughter. "All Mr Grey's former subs, excluding Faye Silvestri."

"All I see is their necklaces," said Sparshott. It's like I'm blind to the rest of the picture."

"Exactly," said Kendall Fox, standing up and walking over to the screen. "Troy West is the only person who could have taken this photograph, therefore the user _Quilcene_ on the Seattle Photography Forum has to be him. I verified it by the IP address and his service provider which I checked this morning. Quilcene is both a reference to his birthplace on the Olympic Peninsula and also an oblique reference to its famous produce – oysters. The technique he's using to dazzle you is a brand new digital-enhancement technique called Pearlising. It brings out the beauty in the everyday. Just as pearl oysters take a piece of everyday grit that's gotten embedded within them and secrete layers of nacre around it until it forms a priceless natural pearl, West has done the same with the necklaces." He had everyone's attention. "Let's for a minute assume that Troy West wanted to be truthful with us; but, afraid of what incriminating himself would bring and possible intimidation by the perpetrator, he didn't feel able to do that. So he did what he could do. He released this photograph. On the face of it, it dazzles you with the Pearlising of the hematite hearts. But, its real purpose is to show you the grit. He's pointing the finger at the perp without actually pointing the finger." Picking up a paper file Kendall Fox placed it over the women's necklaces. "Now what do you see? More to the point, who do you see?"

"Roger Carter," said Sparshott, stunned.

"Indeed. The man who wouldn't let you meet him at home. Let's bring him in."

**xXXx**

Across town, Christian Grey was waiting for news from the hospital. He'd gotten Susannah McDowell to place a call to Jessica Collins to see if there was any way that they could get a DNA swab from Alice Marjec. It was highly illegal, he knew that, but reassurance for David was important. It was distracting his student when the man needed to focus on his training. Christian had asked Susannah to call David directly, and now he was waiting to hear from David.

Just then, ignoring the rules about appointments, Amos King barged into his office and threw Saturday's _Seattle Times_ onto Christian's desk. It was open at the page with the photograph of his subs and in particular, Chief Legal Advisor Susannah McDowell on it.

"Fire her," spat King.

"For going to her friend's funeral? No."

"For being a…" Amos King turned red. He could not say the word.

"Mourner?" Christian supplied, knowing full well it wasn't the word King was looking for.

"For…"

"Grieving?"

"No, for being a… Deviant!"

"A _what?_" Christian feigned ignorance. "I'm sorry, Mr King, but you'll have to explain that one to me." He picked up the newspaper. "How is Mrs McDowell a… deviant, whatever that is?" Christian was strangely drawn to the heart-shaped necklaces. He could barely look away from them. "She looks fully clothed to me. In Yves Saint Laurent, I believe." Ana had exactly the same dress in her closet. He looked up, enjoying the prude's discomfort.

"It's not her clothes, it's what she does. With men," King added, lowering his voice. "And women, too."

Christian knew the latter to be categorically untrue. "Mr King, as you well know, Susannah McDowell is married. Not happily, I adm…"

"To a known deviant!" Amos King barely let him finish. "I had him followed."

"You did _what?_" Christian was immediately outraged. "On what grounds?" Scott McDowell was a vicious bastard, but that was his personal opinion. "I hope to God you didn't use GEH security or else I'll have to explain why to the Seattle Police Department."

"Surely you knew what he was? You hit the guy. I saw the tape. Was it because of his sexual…" the word stuck in King's throat, "proclivities?"

"I hit him because he's an asshole. I don't think anyone's going to prosecute me for the truth. But following him is out of order. Why did you do that?"

"Because I've had my suspicions about her right from the outset."

"About _her?_ Mrs McDowell has been with GEH far longer than you have and I have no suspicions."

"Perhaps not, if you've lived such a sheltered life that you don't know what a sexual deviant looks like when you see one. Don't think I don't know what that…" he gestured to his neck, "thing is around her neck is." Amos King's face screwed into more wrinkles than a Sharpei puppy.

Christian bit his lip against a laugh, resting his hands on his desk and pressing a secret button underneath. It would tell Andrea that interruptions were OK. In fact, they were desirable.

"Enlighten me. What does a sexual deviant look like?" He couldn't resist playing Devil's advocate. "Do I look like one?"

"Of course not! You're a happily married man with four beautiful children. It's good to see such mighty fine American family values at the heart of a company. One man, one woman is how the good Lord determined it should be."

"We will have to disagree on what we believe are family values," said Christian. "Mrs McDowell is in the same kind of relationship, what makes her a sexual deviant?"

"I don't like to say." Amos King's revulsion was almost turning him inside out.

"Well, you're going to have to say if the Seattle Police get wind of your actions. The only cause for GEH to dismiss Susannah McDowell would be for gross failure at her job. Seeing as she has successfully guided us through nearly seven years' worth of negotiations and each deal remains securely in place, I find no grounds to acquiesce to your demands. And why are you so irritated by what's around her neck?" Christian pointed at her newspaper picture. "It's a pendant."

"I don't mean that one, I mean the other one. The one that…"

A knock at the door cut their conversation off.

"Come in," said Christian, smiling at the interruption. GEH's Head of Public Relations, Melanie Clearwater entered.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" she said.

"No, no," reassured Christian. "Plans for the grand opening of Grey Plaza are important. I know you have deadlines for arrangements to be in place."

"Thank you Mr Grey. Would you forward me a list of any personal guests you'd like to invite, beyond your parents, brother and sister and their families, please?"

"Sure, would you like that now?"

King cleared his throat. "Mr Grey, I…"

"Amos. Could we continue this discussion another time, please? It's important that Ms Clearwater finalises arrangements for next week."

"Of course," King muttered. "But, I'm serious. That woman's trouble. For you and for the future of GEH. You mark my words."

Christian smiled insincerely. "I don't believe so."

We'll see," said King and departed with a huff.

His cell phone rang, it was David Brannigan. "One moment, Melanie. I'll just take this."

**xXXx**

"Roger Carter?" Ana furrowed her brow at the name her PA had announced down the phone to her. "I don't know a Roger Carter."

"That's what I thought. But he says he met you at Faye Silvestri's funeral."

"Did he? Well, he must be mistaken because I didn't go to it. I met some of her friends for lunch afterward. I don't want to take the call. Find out what he wants and see if someone else can help him."

Ana put down the phone and returned to her edit of Christian's book.

"Oh, my love, you are far too honest." She rephrased a paragraph burying yet another truth about her husband's teenage years into something more anonymous. "Only 20 more chapters to go."

There was a knock on the door which opened to reveal an agitated David Brannigan.

"May I go to the hospital, please?"

Ana shot up from her seat. "What's the matter? Is Alice OK?"

A broad grin split his face. "No… Yes… Um, it's complicated."

OK, calm down." Ana went over to him and ran her hands down his arms.

"She's not OK, they're still going to transfer her to Boston, but the most amazing thing's just happened. Kamila's agreed to let Alice have a DNA test. I'm going to know this afternoon one way or another! I need to be there, Ana. Please?"

"That's great! But…" Ana looked at her watch. "It's barely eleven."

"I'll take an early lunch?"

She rolled her eyes, taking pity on the best news about Alice that David had had in a long time.

"Go on, then. But be back for 2 o'clock."

Her husband appeared in the doorway. "Are you ready?" he said to David.

"Are you going with him?"

"Yes. I'm the string puller," he smirked.

"What did you do this time?" She folded her arms.

He looked sheepish. "I got Susie to call Jessica, but it looks like we didn't need subterfuge after all."

"OK, go, but have him back for two. He needs to work."

"That he does, Mrs Grey and I shall see to it that he does."

The two men scooted out of the office like two boys let out for recess. Ana chuckled. As much as he tried to play the serious grown up, there was a bit of Christian Grey that would like to be a child. As Ana settled down to edit his book again, she tried to make sure that she adequately preserved exactly why.


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32**

**Tuesday **

Having allowed a doctor to take a sample of his DNA, David made quick progress down the shiny-floored hallways of Seattle Children's Hospital, with Christian at his side. They were passed in the hallway by a tall distinguished-looking gentleman who'd come out of a side office and whom Christian gave a quick nod to. Exiting the same office moments later a Doctor caused him to stop in his tracks.

"Dr Collins," Christian said with surprise. The woman reacted with equal surprise and for a second when she turned around, David thought that Ana Grey must have a sister that he didn't know about, because there was an uncanny similarity between the two women.

"Mr Grey," she replied. "I wasn't expecting to see you. Is there a problem?" The doctor gave a quick glance to David. "Did Susannah pass on the information?"

"Yes, she did. We're here for the results."

Dr Collins' face settled into a serious expression as she looked at David more fully. "The DNA profile looks at the best match, so please respect that. If the answer isn't what you want, then don't demand a re-test because you'll get exactly the same result. It's science, not guesswork."

David nodded. "I understand."

"I wish you all the best. Please excuse me, I have a meeting. Mr Brannigan," she gave a brief nod to him. "Mr Grey."

"Dr Collins, thank you," Christian replied, extending his hand.

She shook it. "No thanks are necessary. It appears Ms Marjec came to her own realization about things and in my experience that's always the best outcome. Excuse me," she said, giving a smile to David and departing in a flourish of white coat and a hit of Chanel No19. It was a favourite of Keeley's.

Christian turned to him. "Shall we continue?"

David nodded and they took an elevator to the sixth floor.

The children's cancer ward was doing its best to disguise the reality of serious illness behind wall after wall of brightly painted friezes and pinboards, full of the work of their patients, all lovingly mounted and placed on display. Leaving Christian at the visitor's lounge, David continued, pausing in the doorway of room 615 and seeing the familiar form of Kamila, sat in a chair by the side of her daughter's bed. Her head was back and her eyes were closed, but beneath the lashes the sunlight was throwing off sparkles from budding teardrops. He didn't dare lean further into the room to see Alice, accepting Christian's advice in the car over here that he was to do nothing without his former girlfriend's explicit approval.

"Kamila?"

He spoke softly, but it was enough to waken her. For a few seconds she was a little confused, before her eyes settled on the person who'd spoken.

"Hi," he continued.

"Hello," she replied in her soft eastern European accent.

"May I come in?"

She nodded and cleared the pile of magazines off the chair beside her. David stepped into the room and his eyes went immediately to the tiny form lying in the bed in front of him. Alice was asleep and attached to a drip. Her face was slightly bloated from the last time he'd seen her. It must been down to the increased cocktail of drugs they were using to try and halt the progress of the leukemia.

"How is she?"

"Tired. Getting weaker." Kamila's statements sounded an immediate alarm. Was this why she'd said yes to the test, because time was running out for Alice? He went to the chair beside her and sat down. Close up and in the strong sun David could see every line of worry etched on her face, making her look much older than she was.

"And Boston?"

Kamila looked at him. "They'll take her today if I say yes."

"Then say yes."

"I…" she dropped her head.

"Kamila, you know I'll pay for anything."

"I know, I know, but…" she squeezed her eyes shut against the tears and in the silence started to rock back and forth.

"What is it?" She didn't reply. "Kamila, tell me," he placed his hand on her shoulder.

Finally the words came out in a sob. "I can't do this on my own! It's too much!" Tears were cascading down her face as she turned to him. "I need somebody to help us, but…"

"No buts, Kamila. I'll help."

"But you don't know if she's yours."

"That's what the test's going to tell us."

"But what if she's not?" Kamila wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Then I don't care, I'll still help."

Kamila threw up her hands. "You see, this is what I don't get about you. This is why I've never accepted your help. Nobody is this altruistic. You don't even know that she's your daughter and yet you say you'll help and you'll pay for everything, just like that." She snapped her fingers.

"And wanting to help you is wrong?"

"No, I'm not saying that, I'm…" She put her hand to her forehead. "Oh, I don't know what I'm saying half the time." She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself. "The thing is," she said quietly. "I want it to be you. I didn't let them test her in case I discovered that you aren't her father and your offers of help stopped coming. You're the only one who's ever paid Alice any attention."

David was quiet for a moment. "I'm pretty sure she is mine, she looks so much like my sister. So as much as I try to retain a level of objectivity, there's a greater part of me that knows she's mine, on some intrinsic level. So, I want you to do two things. Firstly, I want you to call Boston right now and say yes to Alice going. And secondly, regardless of the DNA test, please let me be a father to her. If I'm not her biological Dad, then let me be the one you choose for her."

Kamila shook her head ever so slightly. "But we're not together."

David shrugged. "Neither are millions of other parents, but they seem to make it work. I'm sure we can too."

She smiled and reached for his hand, peering around the back of him.

"What?" He leaned away, uncertain.

"I'm looking for your Angel wings." Kamila released his hand and sat back in her chair. "I know you have a new girlfriend, how's she going to take this?"

"She knows how it is, but we'll talk about it some more."

Both of them looked at the sleeping little girl in the bed.

"Call Boston," he said. "Do it now. If Medevac is even the slightest of issues, let me know. Christian Grey said that we can use his plane."

Her mouth dropped open. "Oh my God," she whispered. "Really?"

"Yes, really. Why wouldn't he?"

"Because… He doesn't know me."

"No, but he knows me and…" David couldn't disclose exactly how Christian Grey had known her sister. "He's good like that."

"Does he have wings too?"

"Yes, but they have Learjet written on the side." They chuckled. "Go on. Do it now."

"Will you stay with her?"

"Sure."

Kamila got up from her chair and retrieved a notebook from her purse. She leaned over the bed and placed a kiss on Alice's forehead. "We're going to get you well, baby," she stroked her daughter's hair, "and you're going to get your wish to have a Daddy."

Just then there was a knock on the door and they both turned to see a white-coated, white haired man.

"Dr Jarman," said Kamila. Do you have a result already?"

"Yes Ms Marjec, we do. May I speak to you alone, ma'am?"

"You can speak to us both."

"Ah…No. That's not the procedure."

Looking hesitantly at Alice, Kamila followed Dr Jarman from the room leaving David to find peace in the clamouring silence. He ran a finger around his shirt collar. He was getting warm.

"You can loosen it." Christian's quiet instruction was received with a nod and instant compliance. "I take it they have a result?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you offer her my plane?"

"Yes, sir."

"Has the call been made to Boston Children's Hospital?"

"No, sir. Kamila was about to make it when Dr Jarman arrived."

"Make sure it happens. I don't like to see this little girl suffering unnecessarily."

"Yes, sir."

There was the smack of a door hitting a wall and Kamila dashed back into the room, completely ignoring Christian Grey and hurling herself at David.

"It's you, it's you, look!" She thrust a slightly crumpled piece of paper at him. David looked at it, bewildered. It was three columns of numbers and beside it explanations, but at the bottom was the key percentage. They were 99.99% certain that based on David's and Alice's DNA, that he was her father.

"Why not 100%?" he asked.

"I don't know. Isn't that enough?" Kamila frowned.

David smiled. "Sure. Now, go and make that call to Boston."

"My plane will be on standby for you."

Kamila started at the different voice.

"It will be quicker," Christian added.

"Thank you. Angels really do walk this earth." Kamila picked up her notebook again. "Back soon. Look after her."

"I will."

David stood up and Christian walked over to the bed, where Alice Marjec slept on, regardless of the major changes in her life happening around her.

"Welcome to fatherhood," said Christian.

"Thank you, sir."

Christian pointed at Alice's hand, which was resting outside the blanket at her side. "You see that tiny finger on the end there?"

"Yes, sir."

"Prepare to be wrapped around it."

"I already am."

"You and me both," sighed Christian. "And I'm tied around four of them." He drew out his phone. "I'll call Stephan to get the plane ready."

"I'll go with them."

"You will do no such thing."

David was brought up short. Christian was staring at him. Finally he realised why.

"May I go to Boston, sir?"

"Yes." Christian's face said there was more and it took a while for David to work out that he was no longer at liberty to get on the next plane. He had a job now.

"I'll speak to Mrs Grey about taking some leave."

"Very good. I'll leave you for a while to spend some time with Alice and Kamila. We need to leave at 1.30pm if we are to be back in the office in time."

Christian left and David sank back into the chair, gazing at his own little angel.

**xXXx**

The men left the ward on time and were making their way back to the car when they became aware of unusual activity in the hallway. Police, Doctors and what looked like senior members of the hospital's management team were rushing about. As they reached the entrance the public were being held back as in through the door swept Harry Marsh and Keeley Fox.

"This doesn't look good," said Christian.

"Mr Grey, Mr Brannigan?" David and Christian turned around to be met by two members of hospital security.

"Yes?" said Christian.

"Would you follow us, please?"

"Why?" asked David

"I'm not at liberty to say, sir. If you would just follow me, please."

They complied and were at length shown into a small room, Where they were joined by Detectives Marsh and Fox.

"These things follow you two around like a bad smell," said Harry, caring nothing for niceties.

"I'm sorry? What follows us around like a bad smell?"

"Murder, Mr Grey. Or in this case, attempted murder."

"Attempt…"

Marsh cut him off. "Mr Grey, Mr Brannigan," he pulled a photograph out of a file. "Is this you?" he showed them the shot from a security camera. It was them speaking to Dr Collins earlier.

"Yes," said David.

"Why do you want to know?" said Christian.

"Is that you?" Marsh pressed.

"Yes."

"And that is Jessica Collins, MD, yes? One of your former…"

"I think we've established that bit Mr Marsh. Yes and yes. Why do you want to know?"

"Because we'd like to speak to you about the attempted murder of Dr Collins."

"What?" Christian was stunned. "You can't possibly think that I did it."

"I don't," said Marsh with a wicked glint. "But I wonder if you can tell me who this is?" He pulled another sheet out of the file with a picture of the tall distinguished-looking gentleman they'd passed right before they'd met Dr Collins.

"Yes, I can. That's Roger Carter."

"And how do you know him, Mr Grey?"

Christian looked at David and blew out a breath. "He trained me."


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

**Tuesday **

In his wife's office, Christian threw his jacket over the back of the sofa and slumped into it, putting his head into his hands. Ana sat down beside him and ran her hand over his back.

"He did it?"

"They don't know," he said. "But he's the common denominator for Faye and Jessica, they both knew him from the Devil's Kitchen. But it doesn't explain Ola. Anyway, he's just a person of interest at the moment. They don't have any hard evidence. Hopefully, Jessica can provide some information when she wakes. They've induced a coma to give her body the best chance to heal itself. Whoever did it left her for dead, but she wasn't."

"And this was soon after you met her in the hallway?"

"Yes. She said she had a meeting, but it was definitely Roger who left her office right before she did. We acknowledged each other."

"And he's the guy who…"

"Taught me the bits that Elena couldn't."

Ana was silent for a moment. "So this is the character of Richard in _White Tower_?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't strike me as a potential murderer."

Christian looked at her. "Does anyone?"

"Can't say it goes through my mind when I meet someone."

Christian reached for her hand. "And he called you?"

"Yes, but I didn't take it. He said he met me at Faye's funeral, although I wasn't there, so how he can say that, I don't know."

Christian folded Ana's hands into his and they sat in silence, head to head on the sofa.

"Do you think...?"

"Don't say it," said Christian, cutting her off. "I don't even want to entertain the merest speculation about why he was calling you. That's for the Police Department to discover." He gave a shudder.

"What?"

"Just…" he shook his head. "I don't know. I can't put it into words." He chewed his lip. "I just feel… Maybe now's not the right time to be releasing a book about being a dominant?"

"Why?"

"Well, if… Roger is behind the deaths of Faye and Ola and the attack on Jessica, then it's hardly going to promote it as being something good, is it?"

"But you're not a murderer and Susannah's husband isn't a murderer."

"No, but he's an asshole and I have issues of control that I fed through becoming one. In being a dominant who knows what issues Roger Carter might bring to the table?"

"_Had,_" said Ana. "You _had_ issues, Christian. Compared to now, you're light years away from what you were."

He smiled. "Doesn't mean I don't want to spank you when you step out of line."

Ana raised an eyebrow. "Step out of line? Who are you, Captain Von Trapp? Will you be lining us all up for morning inspection?"

"You know what I mean. When you do things on the spur of the moment. It still fires up the control freak."

"And the control freak has been told time and again that he has to deal with it."

"I know…" Christian ran his fingertip over the curve of Ana's immaculately manicured nails.

"I hope it is him," she whispered.

Christian shook his head. "I don't. It won't take too much digging into his background to find Elena and, most likely, me. I've long thought that I dodged a bullet when those photographs came to light and again when Lincoln blew up the Devil's Kitchen. Perhaps this one's got my name on it?"

"Christian, don't be so fatalistic."

"But it's not the world's biggest community and who knows who'd want to reap a nice big payment from a newspaper, in return for a juicy story about me? I haven't managed to slap an NDA on everyone I've ever known."

"But… You're a hero for saving them in the fire."

"Yes, but how did I know they were down there in the first place?"

"But we're talking about consensual acts, here."

"Sex sells, Ana, you know that as a publisher. And kinky sex sells even better." Christian looked at the clock on the wall. It had gone 6.00 and there was little point in attempting any work now. "Let's go home," he said, pulling Ana off the sofa. "As great as it turned out for David, I just want to put the afternoon behind me. Being interviewed by Marsh was not on my To Do list for today."

Hand in hand they rode down in the elevator to the first floor in silence. The entrance was quiet as most people had left for the day and the click of Ana's heels drew attention of the stragglers as they walked to the exit. Movement caught Christian's eye and from an elevator descending from Tower 1 came Scott and Susannah McDowell. Susannah's gaze was fixed on the floor a little way ahead of her. They met at the door and Christian's mood soured as he saw McDowell's insanely smug face.

"Just taking my wife to dinner. That's allowed isn't it?"

Christian looked to Susannah but her expression gave no reaction.

"Sure," he said and let the couple pass before he and Ana left the building. He took a couple of calming breaths as his wife squeezed his hand.

"What was with that look?" he hissed. "It's like he knows something I don't."

"Stay calm," she whispered. "He's not worth it. Besides, they have to talk to one another. They are still married. Well, for now."

"Perhaps. But that doesn't get over the fact that he makes me want to punch his face to pulp."

"Then take it out on the punchbag in the gym. It will be less costly in surgeon's fees to re-set your hand."

Christian looked at Ana. "When did you start worrying about money?"

"I'm not. I'm just concerned about your health because you're the world's worst patient."

Christian gave an amused frown. "Ana, can you hear yourself?"

"What?"

"You sound like my mother."

Ana grasped the knot in his tie and straightened it ever so slightly. "We've been married for nearly eleven years and we have four children together. I'm not the naïve girl who fell into your office anymore." She closed the gap between them and looked him in the eye. "I know you better than anyone, Grey," she whispered. "And for all your Master of the Universe shit you're a complete wuss when you're ill." She kissed him.

Christian grinned.

"What?" she asked, looking up into his face.

"How did it all go so right?" He pushed her briefcase to the floor and took her in his arms. "From the mess of a man you met that day, to us now. How did we get it so right?"

"I can't exactly tell you, but I think it's because we worked at it."

Christian exhaled. "I hate to think where I would be now."

Ana kissed him. "You would not be Scott McDowell. Even back then you were a good man."

"But how did you know? You barely knew me."

"That's true. But Jason told me you were and that was good enough for me. If the sun is behind it, you can see the silver lining around even the darkest of gray clouds."

Christian pulled her close. "Oh Ana…" His love for this amazing woman still overwhelmed him, even now. He closed his eyes, bringing to mind all that she had given him.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

**Monday**

The week had not got off to a good start for Darcey Grey.

"But I want to go and play!" she shouted at Astrid, the childminder.

"I'm sorry, Darcey, but Teddy has an after school club."

The little girl stomped out of the living room.

"Ana's glad," said Gail Taylor. "She was trying to come up with an excuse to why Darcey couldn't go to the play date and then Teddy asked if he could start Karate on Mondays. She said yes immediately."

"Is it the usual tale of avoiding people trying to hang on the Grey's coat tails?"

"Yes."

"I was thinking of taking the girls for ice cream while we wait for Teddy. What's the name of the place then I know to avoid it?"

"Ruby's… no Jenny's. Jenny's. Pretty sure it's that. Jenny's has the better play barn, yes?"

"Yes. Although Ruby's has the better ice cream so that's a win for us."

Astrid Anderson had been with the family ever since Ana had gone back to work after Teddy was born. They were lovely children, each with their own personalities. William seemed to be developing into a patient little boy, with much in common with his quieter older brother and sister. Darcey, however, made up for the relative quietness of Teddy and Phoebe by making enough noise for three children.

Astrid picked up her car keys. "Time to go and collect Miss Phoebe from school. We'll stop by Ruby's before we pick Teddy up. Are you OK with William?"

"Sure!" Gail lowered herself onto the floor next to the little boy. "We'll have great fun!" William beamed at the Grey's housekeeper. "Oh my goodness. That smile makes him look just like his father."

Astrid rounded up Darcey and set off for Phoebe's school, waiting patiently for her little charge to appear. Whereas all the other girls looked as if they'd spent the day being dragged through a hedge, Phoebe Grey was as immaculate as she had been at the start of the day, with not so much as a hair out of place or a smudge on her face. Everything about Phoebe was neat and orderly.

Phoebe did up her seatbelt and Astrid settled into the drivers' seat.

"Did you have a good day at school?"

"Yes, thank you," said Phoebe, her diction crisp.

"I thought we'd go and get some ice cream while…

"Ice cream!" shouted Darcey, clapping her hands.

"… while we wait for Teddy. Is that OK?"

"Yes," said Phoebe, although her face didn't display the pleasure that her younger sister's did.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." But Phoebe looked a little lost.

"Sure?"

Phoebe looked at Astrid. "Do I have to have ice cream?"

"Of course not. You can have something else."

"I'd like a blueberry pancake, please. Just one."

Darcey made a 'bleurgh' sound.

"You don't like pancakes, Darcey?" Gail oversaw breakfast for the children.

"I don't eat blueberries."

"You don't eat anything," grumbled Phoebe. "Daddy hates it."

Darcey stuck her tongue out at her sister. "He does not."

"He does so. He told Mommy that you worry him."

"I eat ice cream." Darcey's indignance betrayed that she was not as sure of herself this time.

Astrid buckled her seat belt and pulled out into the traffic.

Ruby's diner was quiet when they arrived and the three of them settled into a booth by the window. A waitress brought them shiny laminated menus and then returned with the ice cream one especially for Darcey, who could not be persuaded to eat anything else. Her eyes wide with wonder, she chose the biggest one, which was commuted by tactful wording to the waitress to arrive as a child-sized portion. Phoebe chose a single pancake and a glass of milk and nibbled and sipped as neatly as a mouse. Astrid looked at her watch, they had three quarters of an hour until Teddy needed to be collected. Having spent the day with Darcey, she asked Phoebe about her day and discovered once again that the little girl had been given extra work to do while the class finished the things that Phoebe had rattled through in no time at all. Both beautiful girls, they had the look of their mother about them; Phoebe with the darker, straighter hair and Darcey with hints of the same copper as in her father's hair and its same unruly nature.

The relative peace was suddenly shattered by the arrival of a large number of little girls who spread out among the tables. Astrid counted fifteen of them, many of whom she knew from the pre-school that Darcey attended. She realised that Gail had been mistaken in the location of the playdate. It was here. Darcey had been tucking into her ice cream with relish, but all that came to a halt as the likelihood of getting to play became much more likely. A tall blonde-haired woman came over to them.

"Oh, hello. I didn't think Darcey could join us this afternoon?" The woman seemed extremely nervous.

"We have to go shortly."

"Do you? Oh good. No…no, Ah…I don't mean good, like that I meant..." she gave an embarrassed laugh. "Oh nevermind."

The woman hurried back to the group and Darcey's eyes eagerly followed her.

"Can I go play with Cassidy?"

"Finish your ice cream," encouraged Astrid.

"I don't wan' it."

"Want," said Phoebe correcting her sister. "Eat it. Daddy says not to waste food."

Darcy pushed the glass away. "I'm full."

"Come on Darcey. You were enjoying it." Astrid knew that nothing could override the primal urge to go and play. Darcey shook her head and as a little girl approached them, she slid down from the table. The blonde woman came over again.

"She can come into the play barn with Cassidy if she likes. I'll look after her while you finish up, here." The woman looked nervously towards the door. "I'm Sloan, by the way."

"OK, thanks" said Astrid, feeling unsettled for reasons she couldn't understand.

Darcey took the hand of Cassidy and the two girls ran off into the next room, shrieking with joy. They were swiftly followed by the rest of the group, trailing parents and carers in their wake.

Astrid finished her coffee quickly and Phoebe, seeming to sense her childminders' anxiety, ate more quickly, finishing her milk with loud gulping noises. They gathered their things and went through into the next room where the party of girls were rampaging around a brightly coloured and padded hell.

Phoebe covered her ears against the noise.

"I'm not surprised," sighed Astrid, finding a couple of seats and placing their things on it. They had ten minutes left until they had to go. This had to be communicated to Darcey now because it would take her the entire time to tear herself away from the fun. Astrid searched the levels of the cube, looking out for Darcey's bright pink top. She found Cassidy, who was crying. She was holding her arm, having hurt herself. Below, Astrid could see the form of Sloan picking her way through the children to get to her injured daughter. She kept on looking, searching for a streak of pink, because Darcey wouldn't be standing still. But there was no sign of her. She found Cassidy again and looked more closely. She was sat by a door in the wall. It was ajar. Instantly her blood ran cold.

"Darcey?" Astrid said in alarm and dived into the cube, running along the padded surface and dodging children. She climbed up a ladder and on her knees crawled along a particularly narrow bit, which opened out to where Sloan was already comforting her daughter. The little girl was bleeding. "Where's Darcey?" Astrid demanded pulling open the emergency exit and flooding the room with bright sunlight. It opened out onto a few empty spaces in the parking lot.

"Darcey!" she shouted running outside and looking frantically left and right. "Darcey!" She called again, but there no sign of her, or anyone else for that matter. It was as if the little girl had vanished into thin air. Astrid looked down at the ground, seeing black marks that indicated that a vehicle had made a quick getaway from the emergency exit.

"Oh my God, Darcey, no!" Astrid felt sick and could almost feel the blood draining from her head as the shock overwhelmed her and she fell to the floor.


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

**Monday**

Taylor, Sawyer and Prescott were together again, although it was not in a scenario any of them wanted to be reunited in.

"I warned you about this, you got too comfortable!" Sawyer could barely speak through his pent up rage. "This place is not Cornwall. They can't run around in Seattle like they can over there. They're not just any kids, here. Astrid taking them to Ruby's on her own, what the _fuck_ were you all thinking?" Sawyer paced his office.

"This is not the time for the three of us to be picking each other apart. You know why the decision was taken." Jason Taylor pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, for the insane reason that Ana didn't want the children tailed by security and he forgets himself and goes along with her. What did she do to extract that stupid agreement from him? Here's a great idea, Christian, why not leave our children completely open to kidnap attempts!"

"Stop it," said Prescott. "This is not helping. I know you were completely against it, Luke, but with the exception of Wayne Lincoln, there hasn't been anything, _at all_, for over ten years. All we've been doing is driving for them. Ana feels it's completely unnecessary and marks the children out as different at school and doesn't help them to fit in. How do they develop their own sense of what is and what is not safe if they never have to learn to judge a situation for themselves?"

"That is not the point of us and anyway, it's a bit late to be discussing it now. The fact is, the worst case scenario that we were originally hired to guard against has happened and because we weren't protecting them, we're now at the mercy of the Seattle Police Department and nobody there has got a fucking clue! The security camera at Ruby's failed a week ago and the engineer hadn't gotten around to fixing it. How unfortunate, or then again, how _convenient?_"

"Getting angry about it isn't going to help, Luke," said Belinda.

"I know. I want to be out there, searching for Darcey. But instead I'm stuck behind a fucking desk organising the security for the launch party for this place! This is not what I became a protection officer to do! And why aren't you two with Mr and Mrs Grey, anyway?"

"They're with the Police," said Jason.

Luke frowned. "I know but…" He stalled. "Christian didn't call you?"

"No."

"Is Kennedy with him?"

"No."

"Shit."

"I'm expecting to be fired, Prescott is too. Don't bank on having your job this time tomorrow. We failed them."

"It was their decision," said Belinda in mitigation.

"Even so, said Taylor. "We should have lobbied harder."

There was silence in the room as the three of them acknowledged their collective failure.

"So what do we do?" said Belinda. "Hand in our resignations? The Police are involved now and if we're not needed… "

Luke walked around the desk and Jason rose to meet him. Belinda closed in to complete the group.

"Rewind ten years," said Jason. "Remember the man he used to be? Remember the incident where Ana gave you the slip at the bank when Mia was taken?"

"Yes, but that was Ana and she had a plan," said Luke. "We're trying to find a little girl who won't be dumping an accomplice's cell phone into the trash and keeping her own with a tracker in."

"True, but the difference was that we had our finger on the pulse of his life. We had a lot in place already and getting the rest wasn't much of an issue. We've dropped the ball pretty spectacularly, this time and it's more than likely that we'll all be fired. So let's get back up to speed, get the family's life at our fingertips again and at least be able to hand over a functioning security system when we have to say goodbye. Let's start with the obvious things. Background checks on everyone and who's pissing him off right now?"

"Scott McDowell," said Belinda.

"Amos King," said Luke.

"OK. Those two are the focus," said Jason. "Once more into the security breach, dear friends. We have a fuck up to un-fuck."

**xXXx**

Andrea Sawyer was making tea for Ana. Or at least she was trying to. Her hands were shaking and her stomach roiled thinking about the agonies her friends were going through. Hannah Martin stood in the doorway of the tiny kitchen, equally as pale and equally as shaky as Andrea, although that had been her default recently.

"Ugh, it's too strong. I can't do this."

"Let me," said Hannah and with practiced perfection, reboiled the water, poured it onto the tea bag and almost immediately picked it out.

"Thank you." Andrea took the mug and went to the office door, knocking and waiting this time for the muted 'come in.' Christian and Ana were on the sofa. Detective Keeley Fox was in the room along with another female detective that Andrea hadn't been introduced to. Andrea went over and placed the tea in front of Ana. There were a pile of used Kleenex on the coffee table which Andrea swept into the wastepaper basket. Christian had his wife wrapped tightly in his arms. Ana's face was buried in his chest and from what she could see at a quick glance, what make-up Ana hadn't removed by wiping her eyes and nose with the tissues, had smeared over the front of Christian's shirt. Not that he cared right now. His face was an equal mask of agony and his eyes suspiciously red.

"Anything I can get you?" Andrea whispered. Christian shook his head. There was a loud sniff from Ana. Someone's watch gave a beep and Andrea glanced at her own. It was five o'clock. An hour and a half since Darcey Grey had been reported missing.

"Go home Andrea," said Christian.

"Are you sure?"

The look on his face held a surprising coldness that she'd not seen for many a year.

"OK. I'll see you tomorrow."

He didn't reply and she scurried from his office.

"How's Ana?" Hannah was lingering at the door.

"Upset. She didn't talk."

Andrea walked to her desk and collected her purse.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"What, now? In the middle of this?"

"Mr Grey told me to go home. I suggest you go too."

"I-I should stay. In case Ana needs something."

Andrea shrugged. "OK, but if Mr Grey doesn't need me than I'm pretty sure Mrs Grey won't need you." Andrea felt a little put out at being so quickly cast aside in the Grey's hour of need.

"I'll stay for a little while."

"Suit yourself," said Andrea and headed for the elevator.

She made her way to her husband's office to find it empty and the conference room next door home to an unofficial command centre.

Luke and Belinda Prescott were working frantically at computers, while Jason Taylor was on the phone. She went over to her husband.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping to find Darcey, in what little way we can."

Andrea frowned. "I thought Christian must have dispatched you to the hunt and that's why I hadn't heard from you."

"He didn't call us at all," said Luke, looking at his wife, pointedly.

"Oh," said Andrea, a certain truth sinking in. "Maybe that's why he told me to go home."

"We fucked up," he said, slamming down the lid of his laptop and cupping his face in his hands. "How angry is he?"

That's the problem. "He isn't."

Jason, Belinda and Luke instantly looked up at Andrea.

"But I've a feeling he could be. He might be… building up to it," she added.

"Has he gone real quiet?" asked Jason.

Andrea nodded.

"And looks sort of…cold?" said Belinda.

"Yes."

"Has he eaten anything?" asked Luke.

"No."

The three of them looked at each other.

"Oh, fucking hell," said Jason.

"What?"

"Does Grey Plaza have a nuclear bunker?"

"No," laughed Andrea. "Why would we need one of those?"

"For when your boss blows his top. Because Mount St Helens will look like a fucking firework when he does. And he will. Who's in the room with him?"

"Ana, Detective Fox and another woman. I wasn't there when they arrived."

"He's unlikely to go in front of Ana, She's the safety valve," said Belinda. "But separate them…"

"I don't think they're going anywhere separately," said Andrea. "They look pretty welded together."

In his office the phone rang. Luke intercepted it in the conference room.

"Sawyer." Luke was on his feet immediately. "Yes, sir. Right away." He put the phone down. "He wants to see me." Andrea went to him and he held his wife, briefly. "I may not have a job for much longer, so don't book a vacation while I'm away."

"Good luck," said Belinda.

Luke Sawyer made his way up to the thirtieth floor. Ana's Personal Assistant, Hannah Martin was instantly off the sofa in the reception area as if she'd been scalded. Luke walked past her and knocked on the office door, which was opened by Detective Fox. Mr Grey was on the phone and Ana was clinging to him.

"Thank you Detective Marsh." Christian ended the call and replaced the receiver in the cradle. He turned to Ana. "I need to speak to Sawyer," he said gently. Will you be OK for a few minutes?" Ana seemed to think about it and then nodded. "Keeley will sit with you." Ana went over to the sofa and Christian headed to Luke. "Walk with me," he said, not stopping. Luke followed him.

Out in the hallway, Christian Grey headed for an empty office which he went into and shut the door after them. "You were right," he said, "and you have every reason to say 'I told you so' at this moment. But, I know you won't, because being a father, you have some idea of the agony I'm in right now."

"Yes, sir."

"I'm trying very hard to keep it together in front of Ana, but I think you know that it's not easy. Especially when I have just allowed myself to be played like an utter fool." Luke could almost see the detonation building. Christian closed his eyes. "I… we… need help." He opened them to look his security chief in the eye. "The help we pushed to one side because we thought we didn't need it."

Luke smiled. "Would that be the Taylor and Prescott-shaped help that's currently sat in the security conference room working like fuck to make up for lost time?"

The threat of detonation receded.

"Ohhhh… you guys…"

"All you needed to do was call Taylor, sir."

Christian pursed his lips. "Then wind him up and let him go." Christian clapped his hand on Sawyer's arm. "Do what you have to, spend what you need to, and take no prisoners." Christian took a step away and then turned back. "Actually, do take prisoners, because I am going to torture the fuck out of them for this! And if they've so much as laid a finger on…" Christian Grey's anger was overwhelmed by emotion for his lost daughter. He swallowed and composed himself. "Just find Darcey," his voice cracked. "Please."


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N **\- Apologies for the slight delay - family birthday got in the way.

Also, thank you for my first ever 500+ reviews.

R xx

* * *

**CHAPTER 36**

**Monday Evening**

Christian opened the car door and helped Ana out, supporting her they took the few steps into the house. Gail help the front door open as they entered. They were not alone. Their family had assembled and were spilling out of the living room. Mia was holding William, Teddy had been crying and Phoebe was fearful and half hidden behind Grace.

Ana sank to her knees opening her arms. Her two older children rushed into them. Christian took William from his sister and held him tightly, inhaling his precious baby scent.

"I'm sorry, Mommy," Phoebe sobbed. "I should have looked after her." Christian fell to his knees.

"Sweetheart, listen to me." Christian waited until his daughter turned her reddening eyes to him. "It's absolutely _not_ your fault!" William leaned over to Ana and Phoebe swapped places with him. Christian stroked her hair. "It's not your fault," he repeated, trying to soothe away her worries. "You didn't do anything wrong. There are a lot of people working very hard to find Darcey." He brushed a tear away from the corner of Phoebe's eye and gently pulled her to him resting his lips on the top of her head. "She'll be home soon." Grace knelt down in front of both of them. She too had red eyes.

"We all feel so helpless, Christian. Is there anything we can do?" Grace stroked her grand-daughter's hair.

Christian's eyes found Elliot and he saw reassurance. His older brother's look mirrored his. Whoever had done this would pay for it by means that their parents would not approve of.

"Just be here for Ana and the children, Mom."

Grace was immediately fearful. "Why? Where will you be?"

He looked to Ana. "Helping out."

Grace touched his arm. "This isn't going to involve anything reckless, is it?"

He looked her straight in the eye. "It will involve whatever it takes to get our daughter back."

"Christian, I…"

"Mom," he held up his hand. "Would you expect me to do anything less?"

Grace shook her head. "No."

"Then let me do it."

"Can I help?" Teddy kneeled up.

Christian reached for his son, placing his hand against his face.

"You can help me the most by making sure that Mommy and Phoebe and William are OK. I need to know they're safe so I don't worry about them. Can you do that for me?"

Teddy's face fell. That wasn't the kind of helping he had in mind.

"Trust me, Ted. It's a very important job and I'll need regular updates from you."

Teddy swallowed and nodded.

"Thank you." He looked to Ana.

"Go," she whispered and he leaned in to kiss her.

**xXXx**

"Holy hell," murmured Beth McCready. "How much did this cost?" The two Detectives had accompanied Ana and Christian Grey home, following in the car behind with Sawyer, Prescott and Christian's new driver, introduced to them only as Kennedy. Jason Taylor was driving the couple, the rookie having been benched in the Grey family's hour of need. Arriving at the enormous mansion, they had pulled up to a side entrance and now found themselves in an impressive control room. "If we had this…" continued McCready shaking her head. She turned to Keeley. Both of them were talented, time-served Detectives doing their best under the restrictions of public funding. "How the other half work," she muttered.

"It's only as good as the people who use it," said Jason Taylor, calling up a computer program and tapping in details. "And we are on the back foot, so take a seat. We need to get back up to speed."

Both Sawyer and Prescott plugged their laptops into docking stations and seemed to continue where they left off.

"Pull in all the traffic camera feeds," said Sawyer.

"Got it," said Prescott.

"Go wide," said Taylor. "Pull in everything you can get access to."

"Are you hacking into facilities?" Beth McCready was wide-eyed.

Jason turned to look at her. "We are finding Darcey Grey. How we do that is no concern of yours. I said, take a seat." He nodded at the chairs arranged around the desk.

A woman came through the door carrying a pot of water. She went over to the coffee machine, filled it and turned it on.

"Help yourself," she said. Her smile to Beth and Keeley was anxious. She went over to Jason.

"Hey," he said softly. "How's Astrid?"

"Distraught."

"Wasn't her fault," he said. "We should never have allowed this to happen."

"Ana only wanted a normal childhood for them."

"I know, Gail. But Sawyer was right. However, now's not the time to be playing the blame game. We have a little girl to get back."

"I can't bear to think what she's going through," said Gail. "She'll be so scared."

Prescott looked up. "Scared isn't a word I'd use where Darcey Grey is concerned."

Sawyer chuckled and looked at Belinda. "Opportunist little monkey?"

"Yep. While we all know that Christian will probably disembowel them when he finds whoever did this. By then, they'll probably be begging for it."

Keeley frowned. "We're talking about a three year old girl, here. She'll be terrified."

"Yes, she will," said Prescott. "But only until she has them around her little finger. After that, she'll play them like a Stradivarius. Never underestimate the power of being both smart and cute. She can wind a Harvard-educated Billionaire around her finger. We can only guess at the pain she's going to inflict on lesser mortals."

"You are making this into a joke," Keeley could not hide her anger.

Sawyer span around in his chair to face her.

"No, we are not," he said, his face stony. "This is the most critical thing we've faced in years. We're just acknowledging the fact that if you were going to take any of the Grey children hostage, then taking Darcey is a bit like making off with a bag of eels."

"With Phoebe you'd get a smart negotiator," said Taylor. "Got the brains of her father and the negotiating skills of her mother, that one."

"In Teddy, you'd get a brick wall," Prescott chimed in. "He's picked up both his father and is mother's stubbornness." She raised her fist. "Yes! I've got Mercer Island."

"Great," said Taylor.

"And William?" asked Keeley.

Sawyer grinned. "Bad ass diapers. That kid can produce a smell."

Keeley shrugged, so what's all this in aid of if you're just going to wait until they surrender?"

Taylor stood up. "We're not going to wait until they surrender. What we're saying is that if they think they're going to have an easy time of it, they're sadly mistaken." Christian swept into the room, followed by his brother, Elliot. All three members of his security team were instantly on their feet. Keeley and Beth followed suit.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"Prescott's collecting traffic data, sir," said Taylor. "Sawyer and I will go through it."

"We don't have the cameras from Ruby's Diner?"

"No, sir. They were inactive."

There was a low mutter of 'fuck'. Christian Grey turned to Keeley. "And you are our link to the Police Department?"

"Yes, sir."

"Is that wise? Would Detective McCready be a more impartial link?"

"Sir?" Keeley's face betrayed her astonishment that Christian Grey was questioning her ability to do her job.

"You are dating a close friend of ours, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"Some observers may comment that we many get preferential treatment because of that."

Keeley's brow folded into creases. Why wouldn't any parent want preferential treatment where their child was concerned? "Mr Grey, I'm sorry, I don't follow?"

"It's what it looks like," he replied.

"You want me to stand down?"

"Yes," he replied.

"But sir," said McCready. "Detective Fox is the more senior officer."

"That has nothing to do with it. It's a personal matter. I would feel more comfortable if you were our link, Ms McCready. Detective Fox, may I have a word in private, please?"

Keeley followed Christian Grey out into the hallway and he turned to face her. His shirt still bore the streaks of Ana's make-up.

"It's nothing against you professionally or personally, Keeley. However, the lines between your job and being a friend of the family are blurred in this situation. McCready is there to serve as the link for information between my security personnel and the Police. However, I would like you to act as Police Liaison to my family."

"But, we have specialists for that."

"Right now, I would rather not incorporate any new people into this group. Do you have skills in this area?"

"Just basic training, sir. My specialism is investigation and making links."

"Well, you have already made links - with this family." His phone beeped and he took it out of his pocket to read it. "It's David. He's flying back from Boston."

"Is Alice alright?"

"He doesn't say. Just that he's on his way back," he pocketed the phone. "So can you act as liaison to my family?"

"I'll do my best, Mr Grey."

"Thank you. I'll take you to the living room."

**xXXx**

Ana barely had the energy to breathe as Christian carried her from Darcey's empty bedroom down the hallway to their own. She was sobbing quietly. Inside he laid her on the bed and returned to firmly shut the door, going to turn the lock and then deciding against it. The needs of their children were more important than privacy tonight. When he turned back Ana was off the bed.

"I'm sorry, Christian. It's all my fault." Her eyes were downcast and as he approached she knelt down."I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry." She pulled up her skirt and splaying her knees, resting her hands on them; the position she took when she was waiting for his instructions. He was not expecting this.

"Ana, no," he kneeled in front of her. "What are you doing?"

"I deserve to be punished. It's my fault you removed the security team."

"It was a decision we made together,"

"But I should have never insisted on it. I just wanted what we both had growing up; the freedom that the Gaverigan children have in Cornwall. And now Darcey…" Ana started to cry. Christian put his arms around her but she shrugged him off.

"No, I need to feel some pain, Christian. I need to be punished."

"Ana..."

"Please. You have belts in your closet," Ana tried to get up.

"No!" Christian pulled her down. "No, Ana."

She looked at him, wild eyed. "I lost our daughter, Christian. It was _my fault_. I _need_ you to punish me for that."

He looked into her eyes. "I don't want to punish you. Don't we feel bad enough without potentially taking our relationship into dark times?"

"Spank me, at least."

"No."

"Why?"

Christian moved off his knees and sat beside her. "You want to know the truth?"

She nodded.

"Because I'm afraid that I wouldn't be able to stop."

"So you do blame me?"

He cupped her face, making Ana look at him. "No. Absolutely not. Yes, I'm angry that we fucked up on this one. Note, _we_ fucked up," his words were breathless from restraint. "But I don't want to take things out on you and have nothing left when I catch up with whoever this is. I want to save every last bit of anger for when it can be let out on the person who deserves it, and you are not that person." Christian stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers, leaning in to kiss her softly. Fresh tears ran down her cheeks and he wiped them away. "I know we're not going to be able to sleep, but let's get into bed."

Ana pulled in a ragged breath. "Darcey won't be able to sleep, she doesn't have Amelia with her."

"I'll take Amelia with me tomorrow."

"Be careful."

"I'll have Taylor, Sawyer and Prescott with me."

"I don't care who's with you. _You_ need to be careful."

"I will." Christian got to his feet and helped Ana up off her knees. Both of them looked at the bed.

"I half expected to see her," said Ana. "Having snuck into our bed during the evening. I'd give anything for that now. I even miss her sharp little elbows."

"We'll have her home soon."

"At what cost?"

"Whatever it takes," said Christian, pulling Ana to the bed.


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

**Tuesday**

In a well-appointed property on a quiet road by the south fork of the Stillaguamish River in Arlington, about an hour north of Seattle, Petra Huntley opened the door of her parent's spare bedroom. She stared at the tiny, wild-haired girl sitting in a pile of blankets, exactly where she'd left her last night after the battle of _Fifty Seven Delaying Tactics Before Bedtime_, which Miss Darcey Rose Grey had most definitely won. The wide, red eyes said the little girl had either been crying or awake all night. She gave a sob.

"I want my Mommy."

"Jesus, change the record, kid," Petra sighed. "It ain't going to happen. Not until he says so, anyway. Look, I brought you some breakfast." Petra placed the tray down on the floor by the bed. On it were a bowl of cereal, a jug of milk and a glass of juice. The girl merely stared at it.

"Well, go on, eat," she encouraged. "You didn't eat what I gave you last night."

Darcey Grey shook her head.

"So, you don't sleep and you don't eat? Are you a vampire?" Darcey blinked. "It's Lucky Charms. What kid doesn't like Lucky Charms?"

"My tummy hurts."

"Of course it does, you're hungry, stupid. Eat something and it won't hurt." Petra picked out one of the coloured marshmallows. "Mmm… lovely. My favourite. I bought them 'specially for you."

Darcey wrinkled her nose.

"Well, it's all you're getting. So eat 'em or starve. Your choice."

The little girl didn't move, so Petra turned to go, seeing a gray streak dash through the small space where the door was ajar. It darted under the dresser.

"Shadow, come here!"

"Kitty!" Darcey clambered off the bed.

"Oh no you don't!"

Petra lunged back to the door, pushing it shut and locking it. But Darcey wasn't interested in the door. She went straight to the dresser and squeezed herself under it.

"Jesus," Petra sighed. She walked to the TV and switched it on. It was on a news channel and the little girl's face was on TV. As expected, the kidnap of Ana and Christian Grey's daughter was headline news. Petra watched the loop of video. It was from her brother's birthday party a few days ago at the Seattle Sounders ground. Then, there was a live feed of Christian Grey arriving at Seattle's Police Headquarters to help with the search. He was clutching a pink rag doll.

"They're talking about you. Your Daddy and probably the whole of the Seattle Police Department are looking for you. But they won't find you out here."

There was no response from under the dresser.

"A word of advice, kid. If you pet him, he'll scratch you. He's a rescue cat and I think his last owner was Satan. I should have called him that."

Again, there was nothing. Petra crouched down, placing her cheek to the floor and looking under the piece of furniture. Darcey Grey was scratching Shadow's head and the malevolent cat was enjoying it.

"Traitor," Petra muttered and stood up, flicking the TV over to a channel that was a little more suitable for kids, settling on one that was showing familiar characters. "Hey, Rugrats is on." She stood mesmerized for a moment, slipping back into the brightly coloured cartoon world. She shook her head as if to dislodge a thought and looked back at the dresser. Neither cat nor girl emerged.

"OK. You have food, the TV's on, there's a bed for you to sleep in, I've put out some paper and crayons, the window vents are open to let some air in and the bathroom is through that door. Plus, you now have a cat for company. I have met all your needs. Oh and don't think about screaming because no one's going to hear you. This house is on the edge of actual nowhere." Outside the room her phone rang. "Better get that. I'll be back for the cat later." Petra exited the room, locking it again after herself.

Under the dresser the gray cat was purring loudly as Darcey scratched the soft bit of fur behind its ear.

"My name's Darcey. I'm nearly four."

Shadow looked at her. He appeared to be smiling, but he said nothing. Not even a meow.

"I want my Mommy."

Shadow rolled onto his side, exposing his fluffy tummy. Darcey ran her fingers through his fur and Shadow seemed to like it. She moved her fingers up to his chin, jingling the little bell around his red collar. Abruptly, Shadow got to his feet and left the safety of the dresser. Darcey followed, wriggling out on her tummy and following the cat down the room as he investigated the food.

"It's Lucky Charms."

Shadow sniffed the bowl of cereal but didn't take any, he was more interested in the milk. Darcey laughed when the cat pushed his head into the milk jug.

"Don't do that, silly!"

But Shadow wasn't for stopping and managed to get his head in to lap the milk. Darcey picked a pink marshmallow heart from the bowl of cereal and popped it into her mouth. She took another and then was attracted by the babyish children's voices coming from the TV. She turned to look at it. They were spying on an older girl eating cookies. The older girl was called Angelica. She was bossy, like Darcey's sister Phoebe. She missed Phoebe. Angelica had a doll with her that looked like Amelia. Darcey missed her doll, Amelia. Was that right? Daddy was looking for her? He'd find her. Daddy had a helicopter and was good at finding lost things. Especially shoes. Thinking about Daddy made her lip quiver and her eyes tear up. She wanted him to come and rescue her and she wanted him to bring Amelia.

Darcey retreated back onto the bed, sitting in the exact middle of the pile of blankets, as if she'd constructed a nest. Shadow pulled his head out of the jug, licking his face as milk dripped from his chin. Spying the bed he jumped up and using Darcey to lean up against he settled down. Giving a loud sniff and wiping the back of her nose along her sleeve, Darcey wriggled under what she could get of the blanket, snuggling up to the cat and resting her head on a ball of blanket. Across the room another episode of the cartoon about babies started. This time Angelica was eating ice cream. Darcey wanted ice cream. She looked again at the bowl of cereal with its brightly coloured pieces and wrinkled her nose. No, she wouldn't eat it and the cat could drink the milk.

She slept a little, but spent most of the time watching TV and trying to make Shadow be Amelia. The cat had enough of that and slunk off under the dresser again. During the day the bowl of cereal disappeared and was replaced by a sandwich. She didn't eat that, because it had crusts on and she only ate cheese. This was ham. The woman encouraged her to draw some pictures, but Darcey didn't want to draw. It wasn't any fun if there was no one to draw pictures for. Mommy always loved getting Darcey's pictures. She took them to the office with her. Daddy stuck the ones she did for him in his office at home. The babies weren't on TV now, it was a cartoon about a dog who rescued people. The door was unlocked and the woman came in again. Shadow ran out.

"For the love of God, girl, you need to eat something!"

"I don't want it," said Darcey.

"Then what do you want to eat?"

"Ice cream."

"I don't have any. I'll have to run to the store." The woman wagged her finger at Darcey. "But nobody's supposed to be here, my parents are on vacation. And if anybody I know sees me in Arlington then there's bound to be questions. Oh my god, the questions." The woman rolled her eyes. "Where have you been? What are you doing now? Why are you so thin? What happened to that nice young man you were engaged to?" The woman stared at her. "Nice young man, my ass. Men are worthless pieces of shit, you learn that good and early, girl. Use 'em for what you want and move on."

"My Daddy isn't a piece of shit."

"Oh no? Do you know what your Daddy gets up to, or should I say used to get up to? Parading himself about these days like the Father of the Year while all the time hiding his sordid secrets from the public. Does your Mommy know what he got up to?" Darcey didn't understand. "No, of course he wouldn't tell you. He probably is Father of the Year to you and probably Husband of the Year to your Mom. It's just other women he treats like shit. I know. I was one of them, a very long time ago, now. I doubt he'd remember." The woman seemed to get smaller. "I'll ask Scott to pick some up and drop it by. Not that he'll want to do that. His great and glorious kidnap plan failed to account for a fussy eater. Why don't you grow out of your Terrible Twos?"

"I'm nearly four!"

"Wow. Then grow up already. I have enough on my conscience without adding your death by starvation to that. How does Christian Grey take this not eating shit?" she laughed. "Is getting a spanking a nightly thing for you?"

"What's spanking?"

The woman's eyes widened. "What's spanking? You don't know?"

Darcey shook her head.

"Does your Daddy ever hit you on the bottom with his hand?"

She shook her head.

"Never?"

She shook her head again.

"What about your sister?"

"Phoebe isn't naughty."

The woman smiled. "What about your Mommy? Does he spank your Mommy? I bet he does. I bet your Mommy can be a very naughty girl when Daddy wants her to be."

"Mommy's not naughty. Daddy loves her very much."

"That's what they all say, kid. Don't believe it, it's bullshit. Even my Dad's been caught dipping his wick elsewhere."

Darcey hadn't a clue what the woman was on about.

"What's dipping his wick?"

The woman shook her head. "That's a conversation for when you're older." She retreated to the door. "Eat your sandwich. I'll try and get Scott to pick you up some ice cream."

As she opened the door, Shadow ran back in and jumped onto the bed. He settled down next to Darcey.

Darcey made herself comfortable. "Hey Shadow," she said as she stroked his smooth gray fur. He responded with a purr. "Shall we watch TV together? Amelia watches TV with me." Darcey returned her attention to the cartoon about a dog called Lassie and wondered if the nice dog might be able to rescue her, too?

* * *

You can follow the board related to this on Pinterest at **pinterest*dot*com/TheRachelJLewis/gray-hearts-for-mr-grey/**  
I've recently uploaded images for Amelia, Darcey's rag doll and Shadow the cat.  
R x


	38. Chapter 38

**Author's Note: **Interesting how the books you read can provide a lift to your work. I've just read the brilliant popular science book '10% Human' by Alanna Collen (out now from Harper Collins) about your gut microbes. Your gut microbiota is individual to you, but similar to the people that you live with, so you can tell that one microbial sample comes from one house as opposed to a microbial sample taken from another house. I thought that was a neat, real-life science thing that I could slip in. :)

**R x**

* * *

**CHAPTER 38**

**Tuesday**

Early morning at the Grey's mansion brought a package by courier from the University of Missouri, which Luke Sawyer pushed over the table to Beth McCready.

"A gift. We know your labs don't have this."

Beth looked at the large, brown box. "Thank you, but what is it?"

"The very latest testing kit for isolating microbial DNA. You have the standard version. But this is the next level and not yet commercially available. It's faster, more accurate and needs fewer microbes to get a result. Consider it a donation from GEH."

"I don't think we can accept such gifts."

Luke sat down at his computer. "Mr Grey squared it with the Commissioner."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Of course he did."

Luke Sawyer's eyes narrowed. "Do you want to stand there being flippant about these women's deaths and the attack on Dr Collins, or do you want to catch your serial killer?"

"Sure, but if they're not leaving us any residue, then we can't identify them."

"Oh come on, surely you know this? Semen, hair and fingerprints are so twentieth century. Your forensics team will tell you that a person's microbiota is as individual to them as their DNA. Get this over to them and let them run the samples through it."

"Why don't you send it straight over?"

"Because part of the protocol for getting this through the eagle-eyed public auditors is the pretense that we just had it lying around the office and don't need it. So you can take it in with you."

Beth lifted her chin. "This all seems a little underhand."

Sawyer lifted his. "This all seems like getting the job done. Now go check in with Marsh."

McCready gritted her teeth. Sawyer may look like Daniel Craig but he was still pissing her off. "I need to see Keeley."

"She isn't up yet," said Taylor from his computer. Beth had left him scrolling through traffic data late last night and had discovered him in the exact same position this morning. He had, however, changed his shirt.

"She stayed here?"

"Of course she stayed here," Taylor turned to Beth. "She's one of them now."

Beth scoffed. "What do you mean, 'she's one of them'? You make her sound like Bella Swan. Should I alert the Quileute wolves?" None of them seemed to get the reference. "And why don't I get to be 'one of them?'"

Prescott looked up. "Well, firstly, because Keeley got to David Brannigan before you did and secondly, because of what happened at Northwestern University, Evanston campus, on October 21st 2014."

Beth searched her memories and suddenly froze. "Holy sh… How did you know about that?"

"Background check," muttered Sawyer. "An invaluable tool to make sure that if there are skeletons in the closet, then we know about them."

"And that's too much of a skeleton?"

Prescott got up from her seat and grabbed another coffee. "Honey, that's a whole damned mortuary. How you got into the Police with that on your record, I'll never know."

"Jeez," muttered Beth and blew out a breath. She grabbed her purse off the desk. "So what should I do today?"

Sawyer didn't look up. "Go to your morning briefing and come back."

"Go all the way there to come all the way back here?"

Luke turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "What's your problem?"

"Well, gas, for one thing. It's a waste of it."

Sawyer got up, pulled a key off a board on the wall and tossed it to her. "Take a pool car. The one that says CGF49 on the licence plate. Gas problem solved. Let us waste ours, instead."

"Thanks. CGF49? You have forty nine cars?"

"Don't be stupid." Luke Sawyer stared at her as if she'd dribbled on her shirt. "Did you see forty nine cars parked outside?"

"No."

"Then we don't have forty nine cars. And how we code the ones we do is none of your business."

"I take it you didn't get any from your wife last night?" Beth muttered, picking up on Luke Sawyer's case of 'pissed at the world.' She saw Taylor's cheek rise with a smile.

Sawyer ignored her. "Just get to your briefing Detective McCready and let us know what's going on down there." He pushed the box towards her. "Don't forget your very expensive gift."

She took it and stalked out of the office.

**xXXx**

Upstairs, Keeley Fox was discovering the benefits of being around the very rich. Late last night clothes in her size had been delivered to the house and this morning found her snipping the tags from underwear she'd walked right by in Neiman Marcus as being completely out of her price range. She'd been happy to drive back to her apartment and grab some clothes, but Christian Grey would hear none of it. In the early hours David arrived from Boston and slipped into bed beside her. It woke her and for a while they talked. He told her about Alice, while she talked about the shock of finding herself catapulted into the heart of a family she'd only seen in glossy society magazines at possibly the worst time in their lives. Of Ana there had been little sign and that was understandable. She had retreated to be with the children. Christian had been constantly on the phone last night, either talking to people or replying to messages. There was an implacable look on his face, as if he'd 'shut down' and hidden his true self behind an invisible mask. Gone was any trace of warmth about him. The easy-going family man she'd once met at Seattle Marina now looked ruthless and, if she was honest, a little dangerous.

David was in the shower as Keeley dressed, brushing out her long brunette hair and winding it up into a neat chignon. She pulled on a soft ivory silk shirt and exquisitely tailored plum-coloured pants and a jacket to match. There were even new shoes – this was too much - she could at least wear the same shoes. She put her usual ones on and found that they didn't give her enough height to keep the pant legs off the floor. She swapped them for the new sky-high black patent pumps. She checked herself in the mirror. She looked too smart to be detective and she couldn't run in these shoes.

"That _really_ suits you."

David was stood in the bathroom doorway with a towel around his hips and looking extremely tempting. "It does, she smiled. "I usually stick to black or dark blue for work, but this is lovely. The shoes are…" she lifted her leg and took in the lethal heels. "A little impractical."

He walked towards her. "You can always take them off. Got time to take a little more off?"

She shook her head with a smile and stepped away from his oh-so-tempting arms. "It's eight o'clock. Time I was downstairs and making myself useful to the Grey family."

The house was quiet. Although there were staff and family members around, nobody seemed much like talking. Keeley helped herself to coffee and a fresh warm breakfast muffin from the pile in the kitchen. She checked her emails, noting the message from Dad, saying that he would update her again after the morning briefing. He was polite and businesslike, but she could almost hear his demand of 'where were you last night?' radiating from her phone. Last night. Mmm… last night. She came face to face with Astrid leaving Mr Grey's study. The anguish on her face drove all thoughts of David from her head. The mental agony that this woman was in was etched clear on her face.

"Astrid?"

Astrid turned back to face Mr Grey.

"Keep the car," came his low voice.

"No…sir…"

"I insist. You need a car."

"Thank you, sir." Her voice was one of utter defeat and she closed his door. Keeley caught up with her.

"Did he fire you?"

"No. I resigned. What else am I supposed to do?" Astrid scooped a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Not that he was for letting me."

"Why not?"

"I've been with them since Teddy was a baby. The children have a routine with me and he doesn't want to mess that up. It's taken me nearly an hour to convince him that I can't stay."

"Why can't you stay?"

"I think that's self-evident."

"No, it's not. This wasn't your fault."

"Perhaps not, but right now it isn't the way I see it. I just can't continue to work with a family that I've let down so badly." Astrid shielded her eyes with her hand. She turned to go. Keeley placed a hand on her arm but Astrid pulled away. "Please, let me go."

Keeley let her.

**xXXx**

Forensics were as excited as kids on Christmas morning as Beth left them salivating over the gift of test equipment from GEH and rushing to get their samples from the recent attacks prepped. How people could get that excited about things you couldn't even see with the naked eye, she had no idea. But if it helped them to track down this killer, then they could run any test they damn well liked. She walked back into the department to see the place looking way tidier then she remembered. Leaning towers of old casefiles were straightened up and secured with ribbons to prevent the occasional slide onto the floor. The desks were clear and the tops of cabinets around the room had been cleared and dusted.

"What happened?" She asked Sparshott.

"Kendall Fox happened." Ryan sipped coffee from a clean mug, not one bearing the stain rings from the previous day.

"You're joking. He did this?"

"No, he got _us_ to do it. Even for those people who weren't here. Behold, the shit tip that was your desk is no longer a shit tip." Beth looked over at what was usually grounds for the declaration of a Federal Disaster Zone and found it neatly arranged. Even Betty, her begonia plant, was looking healthy.

"Wow. What did you do to Betty?"

"Gave her water. You know the thing that plants need?"

"Five minutes," came the call from Kendall Fox and he strode off to the meeting room.

"Christian Grey's arrived," said Sparshott. "Wasn't expecting to see him."

"He has? Neither was I. Where is he?"

"I saw him going in the direction of the Commissioner's Office. So how was your night at the Grey's mansion?"

"I don't know, ask Keeley."

"You didn't stay there?"

"No. I stayed in a Comfort Inn in Bellvue, while Little Miss Perfect Background Check spent the night with her thighs wrapped around lover boy in the guest suite."

Sparshott laughed. "You need a perfect background check to stay at the Greys?"

"Apparently so."

"Bet they got you on Northwestern."

"Fuck! How the…" Beth dropped her voice and leaned over the desk to him, her face in his. "How the _hell _do you know that?"

Sparshott tapped the side of his nose and got up from his desk. Beth trailed after him.

"How do you know? Tell me. _Tell me!_"

Sparshott walked into the meeting room and took a seat. Beth dropped into one beside him.

"Social media," he said. "My roommate in College was the brother of one of the guys you attacked."

"And did he tell you why I did it?"

"No. Why did you?"

Beth tapped the side of her nose as Kendall Fox called the room to order.

"I am pleased to report that overnight we have made progress in locating Roger Carter, but he is managing to keep one step ahead of us at every turn. Doesn't take a genius to work out that vanishing before the school semester is even out is drawing attention to himself that isn't consistent with a man who considers himself not guilty. We have his details on every media outlet possible. We have patrols alerted down into Oregon, east into central Washington and Idaho and north into Canada. However, that's a precaution. There's no reason to suggest that he's crossed the border as cameras would have picked him up. Detective Marsh is continuing to lead the hunt to bring Carter in. Meanwhile, as the search continues for Darcey Grey, there has been a slight shift in personnel at the request of Mr Grey himself this morning. He's with the Commissioner now, but will drop into to see us later, so be on your best behaviour as he's just donated an extremely expensive piece of forensic test equipment to us. Detective Fox has been assigned the role of family liaison, while Detective McCready is our link with the Grey's own security team. Samples taken from the Carter's house and from his office at Bremerton Elementary are going to be analyzed to look for a match with the samples taken from all three recent attacks. The new tests are quick so we're expecting to have answers later this morning. Any updates from the team?"

"Mr Grey's security are going through traffic footage," said Beth.

"Make sure they understand that any resultant searches need the correct paperwork and that's our department."

Kendall Fox made a reasonable request, but Beth was pretty sure that Sawyer, Taylor and Prescott would disregard it. They weren't the sort of people who waited around for the correct paperwork before they went in – probably all guns blazing. If they could get that little girl back before the Police department had so much as got in their cars, they'd do it, she was sure of it.


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

**Tuesday **

Andrea Sawyer replaced the phone handset on another of many enquiries after Christian Grey this morning. Sending their love and prayers to him and his family, offering whatever help they could give. She had a fair list of them and she could see his email account filling with similar messages. She'd leave him to deal with those personally. But she gasped as opposite her the elevator doors opened. Christian Grey was the last man on earth she was expecting to see today and as he approached her desk, clutching a pink rag doll that she recognised as Darcey's favourite toy, she was rendered speechless.

"I am so sorry, sir," said Olivia, managing to find words and joining them. "Is there anything we can do?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Can I at least get you some coffee?"

He nodded.

"I'll bring it through." Olivia went to get it.

Christian looked at Andrea. She'd never seen him looking so sad.

"Can I speak to you, please?" he asked.

"Sure," she squeaked, her voice betraying the conflict of emotions that she was experiencing. She followed him into his office, where he placed the little doll carefully on his desk and turned around to face her, sitting on the edge of his desk.

"How are you and Ana?" she asked.

"In pieces," he admitted. "Media everywhere from our house to the Police Department to here. I felt under siege."

"So, what are you doing here?" she asked. It was out of her mouth before she was aware of it.

"Trying to keep from going crazy." He picked up the toy again. "I've spoken to Detective Kendall Fox. He's taking the lead on searching for Darcey. Nice guy, I know he's very good at these things, but it takes time to get things together, to pick up leads and be in a position to follow them. The delay is gnawing at my insides and stirring up some very deep parts of me. But it's necessary. Without it they'd be running around aimlessly."

"Do they have any clues?"

"The biggest clue right now is Sloan Sharp," he scoffed. "Of all people. Astrid reported a couple of odd comments that the woman made yesterday and the Police are following that up. Astrid's quite a sensitive person and Sloan seemed 'off', as if the woman was nervous about something. They're starting with her. But, Andrea, I need to ask you. You've got your ear pretty close to the ground as regards what goes on at GEH. I need to know if there's been anything that would lead you to believe that someone could be targeting me? Anything you've taken out before it's gotten to me? Mail, email, calls? Anything more than the usual bunch of student revolutionaries who believe they've hit the jackpot by getting my email address?"

"No. Nothing. It's exam season so the student revolutionaries are even quieter than usual. The only thing that people are talking about is Susannah and her appearance in that photo that went viral. There's a lot of talk about her and this strange coven of women she's involved with, what they get up to and whether she'll be the attacker's next victim."

"That's a little macabre," said Christian. "And this goes on where?"

"In the café, in the hallways, in the ladies washroom and by the water coolers. Pretty much everywhere. Everybody's talking about it. Well… they were. Obviously, today they're talking about Darcey."

"But before today, what do people say about me?"

Andrea frowned. "You never give a flying monkey what people think of you."

"Not usually. But, this feels personal. I want to know if there's anyone I seriously pissed off."

"I don't know of anyone, although Amos King doesn't seem too hot on you."

"It's mutual, but I don't think he would stoop to kidnapping." He put the doll down and gripped the edge of the desk either side of him.

"So what are they saying about Susannah?"

"Oh…" Andrea shook her head. "Just…"

Christian smiled "Are you uncomfortable? You're going pink."

Andrea held her hand to her cheek. "Yes, I am a little warm. Early menopause, perhaps?"

"Andrea, you're not even forty yet. Come on, what are they saying about Susannah? Is this why King wants me to fire her? Has some juicy piece of gossip reached his ears that haven't reached mine?"

Andrea shifted her weight from foot to foot. Many pieces of juicy gossip had been kept from his ears. "I think she might be in some strange set up with that freaky husband of hers. He had her wearing a collar."

Christian nodded. "I know about that."

"And?"

"I don't approve. But it's their relationship, I can't interfere."

"Well, I think you should after that scene he pulled outside and the state he left her in. He's Looney Tunes. If you ask me you should investigate him."

He pursed his lips. "Last week, King managed to piss me off by saying he'd had Susannah's husband followed. Although I didn't want to see it at the time, can you get me that information, please?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Think it's time I had a word with McDowell. Find out what his problem is." Christian picked up the doll again. "So what else do you talk about behind my back?"

"Um… nothing. Just regular stuff. TV, movies, fashion… books." Andrea felt the heat in her cheeks increase thinking of the complete and utter chaos that _White Tower_ was causing as it spread its way through GEH and her particular suspicions about who the author was.

"Books huh?" He gave a little rise of his eyebrows that sent Andrea's insides plummeting. "Well…" He seemed extraordinarily pleased with himself.

"Oh God…" the moan slipped out of Andrea's mouth before she could stop it.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said moving her hand to dash the comment away.

"Andrea? You do know that you're the world's worst liar? Darcey has a better poker face than you. There's definitely something."

Andrea's shoulders slumped. "I hate you sometimes."

He grinned. "Come on. It's brightened my day to think that Mrs Sawyer might be reading a book that she doesn't want me to know about. But the key question is, is it one that Luke might want to know about?"

"Definitely not!" Andrea was adamant. But didn't elaborate further.

"So, come on? What are you reading?"

"_To Kill a Mockingbird."_

"That's not what you're reading. That's what you want me to think you're reading." He used the doll to gesture at her. "Come on. What is it? It's not a trick question."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Today of all days, Mr Grey, it's really not important. I'll go get the information from Amos King."

"Andrea," he sighed. "Do you know how little sleep I had last night? Do you know how many hours Ana cried? Do you know how many people have asked me to describe Darcey over and over and over again, until she doesn't so much feel like our daughter, but some commodity they own? I had one of the worst nights of my life, last night. Humour is in pretty short supply and all I want to know is the name of the goddamn book you're reading."

An awkward silence fell over her as she weighed up whether to tell him about _White Tower_. What were the chances that it was written by him? Having read it several times now she was pretty convinced it was. But today was not the day to tell him that she knew about it.

"_The Lemon Grove,"_ she said exhaling.

"What's it about?"

"A woman in her 40s who has an affair with a seventeen year old boy."

"Is it good?"

"It is so far. I haven't finished it yet." That was the truth, she hadn't picked it up since Olivia sent her _White Tower_. "I'm sorry," she added.

"For what?"

"Being obtuse, for Darcey, for…" For whatever unbelievable state he was going to be in when she did manage to tell him about _White Tower_. A sudden attack of nausea at how angry he would be made her cover her mouth.

"Are you…" he started but was interrupted.

"Ah Christian…" Amos King's loud voice and frame obliterated everything as he strode into the room. "I wanted to know whether you'd had time to think about firing…"

Christian stood up. "Amos, you're just the man I want to see."

"Oh really?"

"Yes. I'd like to take a look at that surveillance you did on Scott McDowell."

Amos King beamed. "I feel sure you'll agree with me that it's time Susannah McDowell left us."

"We'll see," said Christian, placing Amelia in the safe care of Andrea.


	40. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER 40**

**Tuesday**

David made his way to his desk. He'd not been with Grey Publishing long but already he could feel a tangible change in the feel of the place. It was usually a bustling office, but today it was silent. Gone were the occasional laughs, the chatter by the coffee machine and in its place were anxiety, concern and an unspoken understanding that Mrs Grey didn't need the worry of a malfunctioning business on her hands while she was worried sick about her little daughter. Everyone had their heads down working, conducting conversation only if it were needed. He sat down, finding three women eyeing him expectantly.

"How are they?" Danielle jumped straight in and she, Simran and Molly gave David every last atom of attention.

"Not great," he acknowledged.

"Have you talked to Ana?"

David shook his head. "No. I exchanged a few words with Christian and then left for here." He'd stopped by his apartment to bring himself back up to Christian's standards. Astonishingly, despite his current turmoil, his new teacher had still managed to pick holes in David's appearance and expected him to correct them. Hannah Martin came into the office looking even gaunter as she made her way over to Ana's office and went in, leaving some papers on her desk. She came over to the four of them.

"I just want to remind you to be careful about speaking to people today. Please don't speculate. You never know who's on the other end of the line."

"We wouldn't," said Simran. "What is there to say, anyway? We don't know any more than someone watching CNN does."

"No, and neither do I," said Hannah.

"Have you heard from Ana?"

Hannah shook her head in reply to Simran's question. She looked at David. "Do you?"

"No. Ditto with the CNN thing."

"I'm surprised to see you here," said Hannah. "I thought you'd be still in Boston, or at least up at the house. How's your daughter?"

"Doing well, thank you. I came back as soon as I heard. I was at the house, but I sort of feel like a spare part."

"The news said that his parents are there," said Danielle.

"Yes, and Ana's family too."

"Wow. How many bedrooms has that place got?"

"Ten."

Around the table there was an outbreak of widened eyes.

Danielle leaned forward. "So what's it like?"

"What do you think it's like?" David smiled.

"Amazing, opulent. The kind of thing you see in Interiors magazines."

David shook his head. "You would be underwhelmed by its normality. Apart from the size of it, you could be forgiven for thinking that it was pretty much any home, anywhere."

Simran wrinkled her nose. "So they don't live in the magnificent splendor that I imagine they do?"

"No, but they hardly furnished it from IKEA. It's nice, but not so nice that you're afraid to sit on the sofa."

"Oh my god," came a comment from the other side of the office. They all looked over to Dominic. "Mr Grey's here."

"What?"

David, stunned, followed by almost the entire office got up and clustered around Dominic's computer screen which was playing a news channel. TV cameras were outside Grey Plaza and Christian Grey could be seen walking across the concourse to the main entrance. He was clutching a pink doll.

"What's he doing here?" asked Molly.

"I don't know," said David. "He didn't say anything about coming in."

"I thought he'd be well out of sight until this was over," continued Molly. "Surely he isn't coming in to work?"

Several of his co-workers looked at him and David had the impression that they were expecting him to call his friend and find out. He didn't reply.

"I'm sure it'll filter through from Andrea," said Molly.

"Don't bet on it," said Hannah with a snap and walked away.

"What's eating her?" murmured Dominic.

"A catastrophic lack of judgement," said Danielle. "She'll get over it."

Dominic looked at her with a frown. "Hannah? Bad judgement? Are we talking about the same person?"

Danielle tapped his shoulder. "Don't worry about it." David saw her looking around the room as most of the people in the office smiled at back at her, as if they were all party to some secret knowledge. It didn't take long for him to notice that none of the men were smiling. Clearly, whatever it was, they weren't party to it.

People drifted back to their seats and the quiet industry returned. Across the room David noticed Hannah closing her eyes, placing her folded hands on the desk in front of her and taking a few moments to calm herself. He went over to her.

"Something the matter?"

The woman almost jumped out of her skin.

"No," she said, with all the conviction of tissue paper. She was pale, although the sheen on her skin gave away her perspiration.

"You don't look too good. Perhaps you should see a Doctor?"

"No, I'm fine. Really." Hannah made an attempt at an unconvincing smile.

"Sure?"

"Yes."

"OK. But if you need someone to accompany you down to medical, let me know."

"Thanks."

David knew there was something and headed to the person who obviously knew what it was. He caught up with Danielle at the coffee machine.

"So what did Hannah do?"

Danielle's shoulders slumped as if she was tired of having to explain it. "Apparently, I pressured her into sending me a particular manuscript to read that she shouldn't have. Which is stupid because she sends me them all the time for my job. But this one might have landed her in a whole heap of trouble."

"Why?"

"I don't know. It's the most incredible book I've read in a long time. I think Grey Publishing should take it, but Ana passed on it, apparently."

"And what would you usually do with a book that you'd read that Grey Publishing wasn't going to pursue?"

"Just delete it."

"And that didn't happen?"

Danielle looked at David, her eyes conveying astonishment. "Not with this one. Nobody's deleting this one."

"You've all read it?"

"Pretty much."

David narrowed his eyes. "So, you're passing around someone's manuscript that Ana said no to, when it should have been deleted?"

Danielle looked uneasy. "Yeah. But…This one. You can't. You just can't." She became increasingly animated, balling her hands into fists and holding them to her stomach. "It gets under your skin, you get dragged into it and consumed by it. I couldn't think about anything else…for, like, days."

"And Ana passed on this?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know why?"

Danielle gave a snort. "Not exactly, but I can take a guess."

"Tell me."

"It's tough stuff. Sex, power, abuse."

David paled. It sounded exactly like _White Tower_ that Christian had asked him to read. The experience of which could be described as… He stalled. He couldn't really put it into words.

Danielle leaned in to whisper. "Reading it is like achieving an orgasm just as someone rips your heart out. It takes you the heights of ecstasy and pulls you into the deepest pain."

That was it. That was exactly what it was like! David went instantly cold as a horrifying possibility emerged. He tried to compose himself leaning into Danielle in a conspiratorial way.

"Sound interesting," he said flashing her a coy smile. "What's it called?"

Danielle held up a finger. "Uh-uh, you'll tell Ana."

David dragged his finger over his chest. "Cross my heart, I won't." It was true, he wouldn't. If his suspicions were correct, he'd tell Christian and then probably retreat to a safe distance. Like Boston.

Danielle leaned in closer, their lips almost touching.

"White Tower," she breathed.


	41. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER 41**

**Tuesday**

David arrived at the very top of Grey Plaza, stepping out into what Christian called 'the jungle.' He stood there hesitantly. Andrea Sawyer looked up.

"Good morning David. What can I do for you?" her voice was light and sunny, in marked contrast to his heavy, bleak heart.

He walked over to her desk. "Is Christian in?"

Andrea shook her head. "Not at the moment. He's down with Amos King. Can I leave him a message?"

"No. Um…No." Definitely not. As much as he hated having to do this, it wasn't something he was going to leave to Andrea however much he was tempted.

"Are you OK? You look worried. Is Alice alright?"

"Yes, she fine thanks. Uh…when will he be back?"

Andrea raised her hands. "I don't know. I've cancelled all his appointments so he has no set time to be back here. You can go down there if you like. It's room 12905, one floor below."

"No, I really need to see him on his own."

"Do you want me to call him, see how long he'll be?"

"Oh… um… no." David felt restless. Part of him wanted to see Christian and part of him didn't. It had to be done but David really didn't want to add to his friend's misery. "It's OK," he said, "I'll catch him later."

"Is there anything I can help with? I've never seen you look this tense before."

"I've never been this tense before. But I don't think you can help. Thanks anyway."

Andrea looked at her watch. "I usually get a coffee about now. Do you want to come with me?" There was something reassuring about Andrea. The woman who'd probably seen Christian Grey at his very angriest, most likely been on the receiving end of some of it and might have some understanding of how best to tell him that _White Tower_ was doing the rounds of Grey Publishing. Should he come straight out and tell him, or send him an email and run like hell?

David checked his watch. It had just gone eleven. "Sure,"

"Shall we go downstairs to the café?"

"Um…" It was usually packed with people at all times of the day. Not exactly a great place to share something confidential.

Andrea smiled "I take it you haven't been in the other bit?"

"What other bit?"

"I'll show you," she smiled and left Olivia covering the desk.

They didn't stand in line for coffee. Andrea led him to an alcove at the back of the vast café where she was greeted by an attendant.

"Hello, Aaron."

The man nodded and showed them through to a large, airy space, where small clusters of easy chairs were spaced widely apart, so that conversations could be had with more privacy. Andrea chose one of the small tables for two by the window, looking out onto the busy main concourse of Grey Plaza, which was full of people shopping. They chose their coffee from vellum printed menus, with Andrea selecting an almond Danish pastry to go with hers. David adhered to Christian's stipulation that he was not to eat between meals.

"The pastries are to die for. I love the new range, although my skirts don't." She put her head on one side when David failed to raise even a smile at her joke. "It's something really bad, isn't it?"

He nodded.

"And it's to do with Christian?"

"Yes. And this is not the time, but it has to be the time. I have to tell him." He exhaled, trying to force the tension out of himself. They sat in silence for a moment.

"Are you able to tell me?" Andrea ventured.

"No," he shook his head emphatically. "I don't think so. This is extremely private."

Andrea chewed her lip for a moment. "I think I know what it is."

"I'm sure you don't. Or at least I hope you don't."

"Think you may be out of luck with that one," she sighed. "White Tower?"

David's mouth dropped open.

"I thought as much." Andrea rubbed her forehead. "I don't know how to tell him. I almost got there this morning."

"You know already?!" he spluttered. "Have you read it?"

His elevated voice caused Andrea to check around herself in alarm, but they were quite alone. It wasn't a day where many people would think of congregating socially.

"Yes, I've read it," she said in a measured tone. Then she seemed to go through a brief internal struggle. "In fact most of us at GEH have," she admitted.

"Oh god…" The breath left his body as if he'd been punched.

She looked at David. "And it's him isn't it? He wrote it."

David nodded. He couldn't yet speak.

"I knew it." She closed her eyes. They remained silent as their drinks arrived, both barely able to utter a thank you to Aaron. Andrea's Danish remained untouched on the plate. Finally she managed to speak again. "How did it get out?"

"I don't know the exact sequence of events, but it went from Hannah to an editorial assistant in the office. From there…"

"It's gone everywhere. Have you read it?"

"Yes," he said with a sigh.

"Changes your view of him, doesn't it?"

He nodded.

"And it's true?"

"Yeah," David ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, lightly fictionalized. He tells me that Ana's working on it to bury his identity."

Andrea frowned. "Why didn't he give it to her in the first place?"

"I don't know." He sipped his coffee. "Do you think we should tell Hannah that we know?"

"No." Andrea's face set like flint. "I want her to feel the full weight of this skyscraper when Christian lands it on her head. How dare she do this to him and Ana!"

"By the state of her I think she knows how much trouble she's in."

Andrea gave a scathing laugh. "Believe me, she has no idea. He's got people around him who could stick her in a box, pour concrete in and drop her into the Pacific."

"Your husband?"

Andrea looked uncomfortable. "I hope not." She picked at her fingernail. "So how did you get hold of it?"

"He gave it to me."

"What?" Andrea was stunned.

"He gave it me," he repeated.

"But it's about…"

"I know what it's about, I've read it."

"Are you a… one of them, too?" Andrea stuttered out her words.

"No," said David with a smile. "Although I'm aiming for some of his…skills."

Before him Andrea went scarlet and rubbed her nose to hide her face behind her hand. She looked at David from under her eyelashes and then gave a squeak of a laugh. It blossomed into something that came out as a gush of relief.

"In one way I'm really thankful that you've confirmed the suspicion that was driving me nuts. But, now you've have and I know it's his story, all I can think about is…"

"What he can do to women?" David supplied.

Andrea reddened again. "Oh holy hell," she said fanning herself with her hand. "No wonder he's so keen on his NDAs." She jumped up. "His NDAs!" Andrea Sawyer looked as if she'd been slapped in the face. She also looked like she'd forgotten to breathe when she dragged in a huge gulp of air.

"What?"

"Every now and again he'd ask for a one." She collapsed back into her chair and stared at him. "At the end of the book when he starts his contract with Natasha, he gets her to sign an NDA, yes?"

"Yes. And?"

"Then what if every time he started another contract with another woman he asked me for another copy of the NDA? Feasible, yes?"

"Yes, but I don't follow."

Andrea seemed to go quiet. "Then he's had many… contracts. Do you know how many?"

"No."

"I don't know for sure, I'd have to check my records, but I'm pretty sure it's going to be about fifteen and where have you seen a group of fifteen women recently?"

"The women in that viral picture at the cemetery, mourning their friend. The women with the gray hearts."

"Yes. Wearing gray hearts for Mr Grey." Andrea's voice dropped to a whisper. "They've all been his submissives!"


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

**Tuesday**

Andrea arrived back on the 30th floor. The door was open and she peered around the door into Mr Grey's office. It was empty.

"He's not back yet?"

"He's gone," said Olivia.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Home."

"Oh. Has something happened?" Andrea went to Olivia's desk.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me. There hasn't been anything on the news."

Andrea took a moment to think. She was thankful that he wasn't here. She needed to tell him, but she didn't want to tell him, fearful of the Krakatoan eruption that would follow and who it might take out in the blast. He'd already told her that she was the world's worst liar, and she found it hard to imagine how she'd manage to keep something of this magnitude from him. But Mr Grey not being here gave her a little more time. Time to get the answers to some questions. Questions that only one woman in this building could answer.

"I'm going to go see Susannah McDowell. Back later."

Susannah's office door was open when she arrived and in the absence of the lawyer's PA being at her desk, Andrea knocked on the door and went in.

"Hello. Is everything OK? I don't usually get a visit from the top floor. Is there any news on Darcey?"

"No."

Susannah's face fell. "I heard he came in this morning."

"He did, briefly. He's gone home now."

"Good. Please, sit down." She gestured to the chair opposite.

Andrea took a seat and appraised the woman sat on the other side of the desk. She was beautiful, tall and slim, with brunette hair and an ugly fading mark where the hideous collar had been.

"What can I do for you, Andrea?"

"It's a little… delicate."

"OK."

Andrea looked to see if the office door was still closed. She leaned forward. "You and Mr Grey. Did you ever have a contract with him? To be his submissive?"

Susannah remained silent but her face betrayed signs of unease.

"I think you did," continued Andrea. "And you won't be able to talk about it because you signed an NDA. But, here's the thing, so have I. So neither one of us is going to mention it outside of this room."

Susannah remained silent for a moment more.

"Yes," she said finally. "I used to be his submissive."

"The other women in that picture that's circulating, including the woman who died; did they also have… contracts with Mr Grey?"

"Yes."

"Does Ana know about it?"

"Yes."

"Is she OK about it?"

"I don't think the phrase I would use is 'OK about it.' Ana accommodates us with grace, but I do know that at times she's found it hard to deal with."

"I'm sure being so public about yourselves doesn't help."

Susannah was affronted. "We're _not_ being public about ourselves. We attended our friend's funeral, a photographer took a picture and it just happened to get picked up. We did_ not_ go there with any intention of getting noticed."

Andrea acquiesced.

"If you think we're enjoying this level of scrutiny, then you can think again. We've moved on from the people we were, when we met Mr Grey. Most of us are married, some with children, careers and professional reputations to think of. It isn't just Mr Grey who might suffer if a link was made between us. I've already been on the receiving end of one employer's inability to deal with my perceived colourful sex life and it looks like it's happening again, no thanks to Amos 'Family Values' King. All I can say is this time, thank God the CEO knows the truth. Interestingly, King has a unique take on the situation between Scott and myself. King's religious beliefs tell him that the man is to be the head of the house and as such, my visible submission to Scott is seen as a good thing, just wrongly played out."

"So he wants you to wear a collar?"

"No, he wants me to quit my job, stay home and bear children. To me, that would be worse than any collar. That wouldn't be submission. That would be subjugation. I submit to my master by choice, that's what people seem to forget."

"And your husband?"

"He is no longer my master and we're getting a divorce."

"What went wrong?"

"I suspect he's another person who can't handle my past."

"But he's involved in the same thing."

"I never told him that one of my former masters was Mr Grey. The NDA prevented that. I suspect he found out. Although how, I have no idea, because Christian has always been entirely professional."

Susannah got up and walked to the window.

Andrea joined her, both women looking down at the traffic in the street below.

"What was he like? To be with, I mean?"

"Scott?"

"No, Christian."

Susannah shook her head. "I'm not going to tell you, Andrea. Confirming what you suspect is one thing, giving you details about it is quite another. Besides, I don't think we got him at his best. He was never happy. We never saw him smile. He's changed so much from what he was – surely you've seen that?"

"Yes."

"Ask Ana what he's like to be with. Although, I don't really think you need to ask her, it's written in the laughter lines on her face."

Andrea smiled. The Greys had a tangible affection for one another and it was rare to see either of them without a smile, when things were going right. But she didn't suspect Ana Grey was laughing now.

**xXXx**

Christian left the material he'd taken from King with his security team and went to find Ana. He found her seated on the floor of William's room with their little boy sat between her legs.

"Hey, he said softly, throwing his suit jacket over the back of a chair and joining them on the floor. His son was all smiles for him and his wife was all tears. He leant forward and kissed her forehead, cupping her cheek and feeling her soft skin under his palm. With his other hand he gently ruffled William's hair. He moved behind Ana, mirroring the way she sat and pulling her to him, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

"How are you?"

"So so," she replied.

"Have you eaten?"

She shook her head and he understood. He couldn't either. He'd lived on coffee today.

"And you? Did going to the office help?"

"We'll see."

At his comment she tried to turn and he released her and moved back and to the side so he could see her. Her eyes were instantly brighter, searching his for any atom of information about Darcey's whereabouts.

"What have you got?"

"Something I want Sawyer to check out. Or rather, someone."

"Who?"

"Scott McDowell."

William got to his feet and Ana steadied him as their little boy stood there looking mighty pleased with his efforts. He beamed at them, wholly oblivious at the heartache his parents were going through. He started to bounce, flexing his knees and making Ana smile. To Christian it was like a light in the darkest night. Suddenly, Ana swept William up and crushed him to her, holding him tightly as a paroxysm of sobs overwhelmed her. It upset William who wailed as Christian tried to soothe both of them.

There was the sound of running and Luke Sawyer appeared at the bedroom door.

"We've got a match from ALPR on McDowell's car being at Ruby's a week ago," he was a little breathless. But the news sent a spike of adrenaline through Christian. "And also in the vicinity of Sloan Sharp's house on several nights over the past couple of weeks. Prescott's checking the rest of it now."

"Do the Police know?" Christian watched Sawyer's face for every nuance.

"Probably, but if they do they might not realise the significance of it. They certainly haven't told McCready."

Then Christian saw it, the spark of fight in Sawyer's eye. Luke wanted to go after McDowell. Christian wanted to let him, but more importantly, he wanted to go too.

"When will Prescott be finished?"

"Depends how quick she can work," said Luke. "An hour, tops."

"Do we know where McDowell is right this moment?"

"Most likely in the offices of the _Seattle Times._"

"Can we confirm that?"

"Sure."

"And Huntley?"

"Doing a background check now, sir."

"Good, because I'd like to find out where Mr McDowell goes this evening."

He saw the smile on Luke's face as he disappeared back to the security office.

"What are you doing?" said Ana. "Putting a tracker on his car?"

"Yes."

"But if he's where he should be, then…"

"If he's where he should be, then he's either innocent or providing himself with an alibi. This way we'll be able to tell pretty quickly."

"How?"

"By where he goes. Or rather, where he doesn't go."

"And who's Huntley?"

"Possibly his accomplice. Possibly his girlfriend."

Ana looked confused.

"But, trust me," he said, looking into her eyes. "I think Scott McDowell knows where Darcey is."

**xXXx**

Scott placed the picture in the scheduled website post, checked the spelling on the article and saved it to go live whenever he activated it. He also scheduled an email containing the same information to hit the inboxes of every journalist and news outlet he could think of, simultaneously with the webpost. It was his insurance.

_The Seattle Times_ newsroom was not the world's most industrious place this afternoon, especially when most people were glued to the TV watching the latest developments in the disappearance of Darcey Grey. They weren't any developments, of course, but speculation and opinions spun out as insight and news. Actual news was scarce.

He was enjoying the feeling of knowing all the answers to the where, why, what, when and how of the case, not that he would be telling anyone the answer to those. The constant speculation of what the kidnappers might want almost had him laughing out loud as increasingly insane amounts of money were mentioned. That was the last thing this was about, but four million dollars would go down very nicely.

He was getting ready to leave for the day when his new cell phone rang. The one that only Petra had the number for. He got up and nonchalantly walked out into the hallway so he could speak to her more privately.

"You want what for her?"

"Ice cream."

"Get it yourself, there's a store two blocks away."

"I'm not supposed to be here, remember?"

"How many people can see you in Arlington, for god's sake? It's hardly Times Square. Go after dark, when the kid's asleep."

"She doesn't sleep, that's another problem."

"Course she sleeps. Everyone sleeps. Just let her get exhausted enough. Kid can't run on fresh air forever."

"Wanna bet?" snapped Petra. "Anyway, what's your plan?"

"To sit tight for now. Are you watching the coverage?"

"Sure, nothing else." Petra's sardonic tones told him no. "You know at some point you're going to have to work out how you're going to give her back. My parents won't be on vacation forever."

"I'll work something out. I have ten days, right?"

"Call it eight. Give me time to clean this place up. Hey, do you think you could bring some stuff up from my apartment? You could bring the ice cream at the same time."

Scott glowered, but understood that Petra would arouse more notice than a stranger stopping by to pick up some groceries.

"OK, what do you want?"

Petra gave him her list.

**xXXx**

Several hours later, his departure from Petra Huntley's apartment with a stuffed hold-all was noted by an African-American woman sat in a car across the street. Prescott lifted her phone to her ear.

"He's leaving. Turning and heading west. Sawyer, I'm handing him to Kennedy. You guys in place?"

"Thanks Belinda, yes we are." said Sawyer. "Get some sleep and we'll see you in Arlington."

"And Mr Grey?" she asked.

"With Taylor, preparing himself." Sawyer sounded uneasy.

"What do you mean?"

"You know how Ana joking called it the Red Room of Pain?"

"Yes?"

"Well, he's dragging it out of retirement and it's gonna live up to that name."

Prescott winced.

"See you 0600 tomorrow, Miss Scarlet. I'll be the one in brown."


	43. Chapter 43

**CHAPTER 43**

**Wednesday**

It was gone 4am. Petra hauled her ass off the sofa and padded through to the kitchen where she poured out the last of her second bottle of wine. There was little more than a mouthful and she finished it quickly before grabbing a third from the rack. She'd been drinking steadily most of the day, to block out the feeling of being trapped in the house that she'd struggled for so many years to leave. She refreshed her glass and took another large slug of Rioja noting to herself that she really should check on the kid. Taking her glass she made her way upstairs to the door of the guest room. She listened at the door. There was no sound from within. Taking the key from the ledge above, she unlocked it and pushed open the door.

The light was on, illuminating the yellow-walled room in a light as bright as day. At first she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing, the wine having slowed down her reactions. But finally, her visual cortex found its goal.

"What the?"

She surveyed the room. It looked like a tornado had hit and there was no sign of Darcey Grey.

"Darcey?" Petra went into the room, placing her wine on the chest of drawers. Every drawer was open and most of the contents had been spread over the bedroom floor. This was where her Mom kept her best table linens, the heirloom pieces, and - Petra picked up a decapitated Santa Claus figurine - some of the Christmas decorations. The closet was also open and her grandmother's full-length fur coat from the 1920s was balled up on the carpet with a pile of other items. Her eyes flew to the window, but it was still on the vent where she'd left it.

"Darcey?" She called again. There was no response to the name, but a tiny splash of water sent her running into the bathroom, where she slipped on the wet tiles and crashed to the floor.

"Fuck!" she said as she lay there a moment, dazed from the shock of it. To her right a wet little head peered at her. Darcey Grey was in the bath and why she hadn't responded became evident. She was wearing her Mom's winter earmuffs. Petra sat up, noting that the old, deep bath was as full as it could go and that not much of the little girl remained above the surface of the water.

"Look what I can do," said Darcey, launching herself into the water. A sparkly tail flicked up as the little girl twisted over. Lying face up in the water, she grinned at Petra.

The shock of the danger took over.

"What in god's name are you doing?!"

"I'm a mermaid!" Darcey gleefully flicked the tail up and down sending a plume of water cascading over the side of the tub.

Petra surveyed the scene with incredulity.

"How the hell have you done this? Come on, get out before you drown." Petra went to grab her by the arm, but something slimy on the surface of the girl's skin made her hand slide off.

"I can swim!" Darcey scooted to the end of the tub, pulsing more water over the side.

Petra tried again to grab her, but again whatever was coating the girl's skin made her hand slip off.

"What have you put on yourself?"

Petra looked around and found an open tube of hair oil.

"Did you put this on?" Petra held it up and Darcey nodded.

"So I can be slippy. Like a fish."

Shaking her head, Petra grabbed a towel. "Come on, fun's over. Let's get you dry." She looked around for Darcey's clothes. She'd left them on the bathroom floor and they were now soaked from the water. "Oh great," she muttered. "What the fuck are you going to wear, now? Better tell Scott to pick you up some new clothes."

Darcey ignored her and continued to push herself from one end of the tub to the other. Petra noticed that there was something at the bottom of the water.

"What's that?" She pushed up her sleeve and plunged her arm into the water pulling out her Mom's priceless porcelain doll from the turn of the twentieth century. "Oh shit!"

"I washed her. She was dirty."

Darcey Grey had indeed washed her, scrubbing off the doll's delicate painted-on facial features. Petra held it forlornly above the water, watching bathwater dripping from the ruined doll's hair. It was her Mom's most precious possession, having been in the family for over a hundred years. All hope of this unscheduled stay in Arlington passing without her parent's noticing, was gone.

"Thanks a bunch, kid."

Darcey sat at the far end of the tub, submerged up to her neck in the water, giving a scary likeness to Martin Sheen in _Apocalypse Now._

"Come on, get out," said Petra, placing the sopping doll on the floor.

"No."

"Get out," Petra said more forcefully. She stared at the little girl and Darcey Grey stared right back.

"No."

"It's four o'clock in the goddam morning and I am too tired for this shit!"

Darcey poked her tongue out.

"OK, stay there. See if I care." Petra got up off the floor, feeling momentarily woozy from too much alcohol and too little food.

Despite her irritation, she was amazed at what the kid had achieved. How long had she left her alone? Petra thought. It must have been about six hours since she last checked on her. She expected her to be asleep, not wrecking her parent's house and playing Mermaids in the bathtub. She looked down at the ruined antique doll. There was nothing she could do about that. She bent down to pick it up, overbalanced and as she fell, smacked her head on the toilet and knocked herself out.

She woke with a pounding headache and for a few seconds no idea where she was. Then she saw the doll and the awfulness flooded back in. She scrambled up, holding on to the side of the tub, finding it still full of water but devoid of child. Well, at least she hadn't drowned. Petra got up and heading out of the bathroom found the soggy mermaid outfit in a pile on the bedroom floor. A movement from the corner of her eye alerted her to Shadow's presence. He was making himself comfortable in the puddle of fur coat and she burst out laughing. Darcey had dressed the cat in her mother's priceless antique Christening gown from England. Shadow, satan's helper, now looked like he'd fallen out of a Beatrix Potter book.

Petra looked at her watch. An entire hour had passed and she was stiff and sore, but she needed to find where Darcey had gone before she flopped back on the sofa and nursed her head. She wasn't in the closet and neither was she under the dresser where she'd hidden with Shadow. Petra walked down the hall and pushed open her parent's bedroom door. It was as pristine as they'd left it, even the brand new cream carpet and Petra sighed in relief. Then she noticed the square of toilet paper in the doorway of her parent's bathroom. That hadn't been there before. She went in and braced herself against the door frame as she saw what was in the mirror. Darcey was standing on a stool, butt naked in front of the mirror and had plastered a layer of her mother's hideously expensive night cream all over her face and hair.

"I'm being a clown."

"Oh my god. Stop it!" Petra grabbed a handful of toilet paper and roughly grabbing the child around the shoulders, started wiping off the white cream. Darcey wriggled. "Keep still!" There was a yelp as some of it went into her eye. "Oh shit!" Petra yanked on the water and grabbing a face flannel wet it and did what she could to remove the cream, bathing it away from Darcey's eyes. "You stupid girl," she snapped. "Why did you do this?" Darcey didn't reply and continued to wriggle, the oil on her skin and the cream on her face and neck making a slippery combination, which successfully got her out of Petra's grasp when she went to try and wring out the cloth. The girl scarpered, leaving a trail of white footprints where she'd stood in a blob of the cream that had fallen on the floor. Petra tossed the flannel into the basin and headed after the child.

Darcey made it downstairs and Petra hurried after her.

"Stay there. Don't touch anything," she shouted.

"I want some ice cream."

"I don't have any, it's coming in the morning." Petra noticed the time. "Well, later this morning."

"I'm hungry."

"What do you want?"

"A pancake."

"I'm not making pancakes at this hour. How about toast?"

Darcey's nose wrinkled in disgust.

"An apple?"

Darcey shook her head.

"A sandwich?

"Cheese?"

"I don't have any cheese. I have ham."

"I don't like ham."

"A cookie?"

Again there was a shake of her head.

"You don't like cookies?"

"No. I like little trees."

"Little trees?" Had she heard right? "Little trees? What do you mean, little trees?"

"Little green trees on my plate. I like those."

"Well, I'm fresh out of little green trees. I might have other green things. What about peas?"

Darcey made a bleurgh sound.

Petra moved to the freezer and went through each compartment trying to find something that the girl would eat. As luck would have it, she had little green trees.

"Broccoli? You like broccoli?"

Darcey's face lit up and she nodded eagerly. "Little trees."

"Of course, little trees," she said, inspecting a frozen florette. Thank the Lord she'll eat something." Petra put some of the broccoli into a bowl and placed it into the microwave. Several minutes later the little girl, sat nicely at the dining table, devoured the little trees and washed it down with a glass of orange juice. Petra sipped from her retrieved glass of Rioja and yawned.

"Aren't you tired?"

"No," said Darcey.

"Well, I am." Petra looked at her charge. Naked, with hair still damp and smeared with night cream, it may be the middle of the night but the girl was as bright-eyed as ever. She knew she should clean her up, but Petra was tired and would much rather leave it until the morning. "Back to your room, kid. I'm not leaving you out here while I'm asleep." Petra drained another glass of wine.

"Can I have some?"

Petra looked at the glass. "Wine?"

"Yes."

"No," she laughed and then thought of the soporific effect it was having on her. "Well, maybe a little."

She got a small glass out and poured a measure of Rioja into the bottom of it. Darcey took it, sniffed it, drank it straight down and held out her glass.

"Can I have some more?"

Petra frowned. "I don't think so." She took the glass off her. "How about some water?"

"No."

"More juice?"

"No. Marmite?"

"What?"

"Where do cats go when they die?"

"What?"

The abrupt change in the tack of conversation took Petra by surprise.

"Do cats go to heaven?"

"Uh… I don't know."

"Good people go to heaven."

"And where do bad people go?"

"Cleveland."

Petra laughed. "Cleveland? Not hell? Although Cleveland might be hell, for all I know. Who told you that bad people go to Cleveland?"

"Taylor."

"I think Taylor's telling lies."

Darcey shook her head. "His ex is there and she's an itch."

"An itch? You mean a bitch?"

Darcey shrugged and then shuddered. The naked little girl must be getting cold.

"I don't know what I can find you to wear." Petra thought as best she could through the fog of wine and sleep deprivation and then had a brilliant idea. "Come with me."

Darcey skipped along behind Petra until they were back in the guest room again. Petra headed for the closet where her Mom's collection of antique dolls were kept. From one of the baby ones, Petra removed the lacy panties that covered the doll's pretend diaper. She handed them to Darcey who put them on. They fitted her little bottom perfectly. She went into her Mom's bedroom. Her Mom was small, and from her closet, Petra took a particularly tiny t-shirt which still covered Darcey to past her knees. It was obviously too big, but at least the kid was wearing something now. She breathed a sigh of relief, just as Darcey went pale and vomited a combination of orange juice, broccoli and red wine down the t-shirt and onto her parent's new cream carpet.

Petra was speechless and then the doorbell rang. She looked at the time. It was 6am.

"That'll be Scott. He said he'd drop by before work. Wasn't expecting him this early, though. Well, he can damn well help me clear this up." She peeled the vomit-coated t-shirt off Darcey and flung it into the linen basket. It missed and dropped to the floor, staining another patch of carpet. "Fuck," she muttered.

Petra stalked through the house to the front door. She flung it open and was astonished to see a UPS delivery driver stood there in a smart brown uniform.

"Petra Huntley?"

"Yes," she said hesitantly.

"Sign here please."

She scrawled her name on the digital device, but didn't receive a parcel. Instead she was grabbed by two men hiding either side of the door and pushed back into the house. The UPS Driver stepped aside as a fourth man entered the house.

"Miss Huntley, it's been a while. I believe you have something of mine for collection."

"Daddy!"

The semi-naked, face-cream, vomit and oil covered child cannoned into the soft blanket held open by her father and Petra Huntley sagged with relief.


	44. Chapter 44

**CHAPTER 44**

**Wednesday**

Keeley Fox sat beside Jason Taylor as the car sped north to Arlington. Kennedy was sat in the back. Ahead of them, the bright May morning displayed its beauty in blue skies and lush vegetation, in that particular shade of green that only May contains. It had been an eye-opening morning and if her father knew what she was doing he'd probably have a coronary. His last words to her the previous evening, had been that under no circumstances was Christian Grey to take matters into his own hands, should he find a lead on Darcey's whereabouts. The reply 'fat chance' now came to mind. A month ago she would have thought the businessman would have played by the Police's rules. Like the fictional Stephen White in _White Tower_, Christian Grey looked like the kind of man who enjoyed rules. Rules he imposed on himself and rules that he imposed on other people. Not as many as Stephen White, who took control freakery to a whole new level; but she observed a great many subtle rules just by spending a short time in the Grey's house.

For instance, there was cleanliness and order – apart from wherever Darcey was. In listening to the extended family's descriptions of the tousle-haired tiny whirlwind, it revealed that the three year old had little truck with any concept of putting things away. She knew about it in theory, said her Grandma, but that people might actually do it wasn't something that Darcey Grey could make a connection with. Food was also a big thing. Meals, where possible, were taken together. Christian Grey would get on well with her Dad, because breakfast in the Grey household was not optional. Nobody started the day on an empty stomach. She wondered if something had happened to Christian along the same lines as the fictional Stephen White, but Grace and Carrick Grey didn't strike her as neglectful parents. However, that aside, rules and legalities were all very well, unless they were getting in the way of his family. If they did, then all reasonable demands about letting the Police take the lead bounced straight off the core of diamond beneath Grey's polished veneer. She knew that now, because Keeley Fox was an integral part of matters being taken into Christian Grey's hands.

She'd been summoned to the security office at the house and when she arrived she found that McCready had been politely dismissed for the day and the room had a cold, clinical ambience that was emanating from Christian Grey himself. He was the personification of that diamond core: unyielding, flawless and formed under pressure. The plan was equally clear-cut. Belinda Prescott and Kennedy would head into Seattle to tail Scott McDowell for the evening. Sawyer and Taylor were planning the liberation of Darcey; and Mr Grey…? Well, Mr Grey had his own plans.

Keeley didn't see him until later and then only at a distance. He'd changed clothes, swapping his suit for a plain black close-fitting t-shirt and soft, ripped jeans that looked decades old. Something about how he was dressed was agitating his wife. She was now even more upset. After a low, clearly heated conversation with her, Ana darted away and returned a minute later with the soft blanket from Darcey's bed. Armed with that Christian Grey headed out of the house on his own, speeding away from the house to an unknown destination.

Having seen him leave, Keeley returned to the security office. It was approaching midnight and only Jason was there.

"Where's Mr Grey gone?" she asked.

He didn't look up from his screen. "Gone to retrieve some furniture from storage."

"Furniture?" queried Keeley. "At this hour? At a time like this? It couldn't wait a day or two?"

Taylor turned his head and the expression on his face spoke the words that he didn't. For some reason the furniture couldn't wait, but there was no explanation why.

Keeley hadn't seen Mr Grey since and he wasn't there when the four of them had headed north this morning. Prescott had spent the night in Seattle, and was now tailing Scott McDowell up the I-5. Taylor was driving the large black Audi SUV, while Sawyer was in another vehicle ahead of them, having obtained a UPS delivery truck and uniform.

"Good morning, Mr Brown," said Taylor as Sawyer had jumped out of the truck's cab earlier that morning.

"Good morning Mr Green," Luke replied with a grin. "Or should that be Reverend Green?"

"With the candlestick in the Kitchen?" finished Taylor.

"Or Miss Peacock," Sawyer said, turning to Keeley. "In the Conservatory with the rope?"

Just then, Ana Grey appeared holding Darcey's doll, Amelia. She handed it to Keeley.

"I think you'll find it'll be Mr Grey," she said, "in a locked room with…" Ana shook her head, sadly. "I dread to think what with."

Silence fell over the group.

"I'll look after him." Jason's voice was barely a whisper.

Ana reached for his hand. "I know. Just make sure he doesn't go too far, _please._ I don't want…"Ana Grey's eyes said that she didn't want her husband being charged with murder. "You need to shout 'red,' Jason," she continued. "Red," she said again and gripped his hand more tightly for emphasis.

"Red?"

"Yes. It's a codeword," she replied. "He'll instantly respond to it."

At this Keeley was stunned. No, Christian Grey couldn't be a… Surely not?

"Not 'stop'?" said Jason.

"No. Not in the state of mind he's in."

"We should go, said Sawyer, checking his watch. "Keeley will bring Darcey back as soon as we have her."

Ana gave a sob and Luke stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"It's nearly over, Ana. We'll have your little girl safely home soon. I promise."

Ana looked at him, brushing away tears.

"Does Andrea know what you're doing?"

"No." Luke shook his head. "And please don't tell her. She'll…"

"Worry, yes. I know the feeling," said Ana. She placed her hand to her throat. "So much worry it makes me feel sick, all the time."

"Just a couple more hours, Ana," said Taylor. "Hang in there."

She nodded as fresh tears pooled in her eyes and the group headed off to their vehicles. In the car, Keeley put on her seatbelt and looked at the happy pink doll lying in her lap.

"Red. Red," she whispered under the roar of the starting engine. She had only recently become aware of the word's connotation by reading _White Tower_ and now she listened to the sound of it on her own lips, allowing a scene from the story to play out in her mind. Ana Grey had told Taylor to tell her husband to stop by using a safeword. Were the couple participants in the BDSM scene? It occupied her thoughts as they wound their way out to the Interstate. Strange, but the more she knew about Christian Grey, the more the thought of him as a Dominant seemed to fit. But his wife wasn't a submissive. Not in the way Natasha in _White Tower_ had been. Keeley thought back to the agitated state that Ana had gotten herself into when he reappeared wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Perhaps it was because he was returning to a life he'd once had?

**xXXx**

They met a short distance from Arlington; the Audi and the UPS truck arriving at a secluded spot where Christian was already waiting. He got out of the low sports car with an ease that Keeley herself could never manage. A few years back she'd dated a guy who owned a Ferrari. Getting out of such a low car had proved impossible to do with any finesse and in the end she'd resorted to rolling out onto the sidewalk. David's Mercedes wasn't quite as low, but getting out of it wasn't something she could achieve with the same slinky grace with which Christian Grey got out of his car.

As he walked over to them she got a better look at him and instantly felt as if she were being drawn in by a magnet. When she'd first met him there had been an undefined potency that she seemed to unconsciously react to, a reaction that as she came to know him better, diminished. But now it was back and seeing the first beginnings of it in David, and reading about Stephen White's development into one in _White Tower,_ Keeley knew what she was responding to. There was no doubt about it. This wasn't about a previous life, this was his life. Christian Grey was a Dominant.

"Good morning," he said as the four of them gathered around him. "I've already spoken to Prescott and she has confirmed that McDowell is on his way. So, barring any last-minute hitches, the plan will execute as we intend." He looked at Keeley. "When I have Darcey you are to take her away from Arlington as fast as you can."

Keeley frowned. "You don't want to spend any time with her?"

"No."

She stared at him, slightly confused. The intensity of his look almost forced her to avert her gaze.

"You want to know why not," he said as a statement.

"Yes."

"Firstly, I want her safely out of the way before McDowell is even in the vicinity. Secondly, I don't want her to remember me like this." Keeley understood now. This wasn't Darcey Grey's Daddy. This was an uncompromising man who seemed as far removed from cuddles and cuteness as it was possible to get.

As the clock made its way up to the hour, the group took its places along the quiet road. As Keeley stepped out of the car she could hear the waters of the Stillaguamish River, doing its best to soothe the palpable tension. The Huntley residence was quiet, but an interior light and a disarray of curtains gave evidence that somebody was in.

Luke Sawyer took his place at the front door on the stroke of six, Kennedy and Taylor flanking the door out of sight and Mr Grey, holding the blanket that Ana had given him stood off to the side. Keeley remained by the large Audi. She'd placed Darcey's car seat in the back and now stood waiting for Petra Huntley to open the door and enable to rescue to take place.

After what felt like years the front door finally opened and Luke played the part of the delivery guy, distracting her a split second before Taylor and Kennedy pounced on her. Mr Grey followed them in, opening the blanket. She didn't know what she was expecting to happen, but Christian Grey striding out of the house almost the next second with Darcey, took her by surprise. She opened the car door as he reached her. The mask that had been so impeccably in place just a few minutes ago had slipped.

"Daddy," came the plaintive wail as Christian deposited Darcey in her car seat, still swaddled in the blanket. He stood back and Keeley got her first sight of the rescued girl. She was a mess. Smoothered in something Keeley couldn't identify, the little girl was crying as she wriggled her arms free of the blanket and reached for Christian. "Daddy!" she repeated, giving a snotty sniff interspersed with her sobs. Whatever Christian Grey hoped to have been this morning, he was powerless to resist his daughter's need for him and he gave in, scooping her back out of the seat and clasping her to him. Darcey put her head on his shoulder and sobbed quietly as Christian stroked her back.

"It's OK, it's OK, Daddy's here. You're safe."

Darcey's sobs quietened and then ceased within a minute. Alarmed, Keeley went around Christian to discover that his daughter had fallen asleep. Her little body twitching periodically with diminishing sobs.

"She's exhausted," said Christian. "This is quite normal. She keeps going and going until she drops. Don't worry, she'll sleep all the way back to the house."

Christian lowered her gently back into the car seat and pulled the belt across her, placing Amelia under her arm for when she woke. Using a corner of the blanket he wiped Darcey's forehead free of cream and kissed it. He stood, up, closed the car door and blew out a breath, shaking his head. He gave Keeley a wry smile, all trace of his sexual potency and invisible diamond carapace was now gone. This was the Christian Grey she knew. "She renders me powerless, just like her mother."

"Kiddie Kryptonite?"

Christian wagged a finger. "That's the stuff." He turned and looked down the road. "But I have to find my alter ego again before this asshole turns up." He took deep, regular breaths.

She hooked a stray lock of her brunette hair back behind her ear. "Can I help?"

Christian Grey gave her a look that even years later she could never explain. It was hooded and intense. Looking into his eyes she thought she saw his entire life in them. Thinking, judging, deciding.

He reached for her hair, playing with a strand of it by her face, the backs of his fingers brushed her cheek lightly and deep in the well of herself a fire ignited.

A geologic age passed.

"You _could…_" he said.

"Anything," she breathed, wanting so much to be under his power.

Another age passed, in which entire civilizations rose and fell.

"But no. Thank you." His words released her and he closed his eyes. He took a step back and when he opened them again the man of diamond was back. Straight backed and with a coldness that came out in his words.

"Take her home, Keeley. _Now._"

She obeyed. Watching him recede in the rear view mirror as he returned to the house.


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER 45**

**Wednesday**

Christian stepped into the house. Petra Huntley was seated on the sofa, her wrists and ankles bound with cable ties.

She looked up at him. "Your kid trashed my parent's house."

"Did she now?" said Taylor. "That's what you get for taking her away from the house she's supposed to be in."

Luke Sawyer returned to the room with a smile on his face. Unseen by Petra he gestured upstairs. Christian gave a brief nod of the head and made his way upstairs.

He followed the trail of devastation to a bedroom, stopping in the doorway and raising his hand to his mouth to stifle a smile. Yes, Petra Huntley's parents had been well and truly Darcey-ed. Over in the corner, something moved and getting tangled in what was around itself, fell over. He sniggered at the helpless big gray cat. This was why the Grey family had decided that pets would be a bad idea.

"Let me help you with that," he said to the cat, releasing it from the confines of the antique garment. There was a rip in it where Darcey had exerted a little too much force on a seam. The cat seemed grateful and rubbed the side of his face against Christian's knee. He scratched the cat's head and then realised that he was slipping out of character. It was such a fragile state, not as easy to pull on as it had been. He stood up, noting the bed, the covers of which hadn't even been pulled back. If Darcey had slept at all -and he suspected not – she had slept on top of the quilt. There was a tray of untouched food on the floor and by the bathroom door a puddle of wet, green and blue fabric with a sparkly tail sticking out. If Darcey had found a Mermaid costume, then of course she'd have been in it. Christian stepped into the bathroom recoiling in horror at the depth of the water in the bath. If Darcey had been in there unsupervised, she could have easily drowned! Any difficulty he had remaining in character was driven from him. The danger she had been in from this water alone demanded punishment. He left the room, noting the new gray four-legged friend who was following along beside him.

"What do you want?" he asked. Unsurprisingly, the cat didn't reply. Out of Petra's parent's bedroom came a trail of white footprints where Darcey had trodden in cream and spread it everywhere. He wasn't fazed. She'd done the same thing last summer with a large spoonful of strawberry sauce that was supposed to have gone on her ice cream.

Christian returned downstairs where Sawyer and Taylor were keeping watch over Petra. Kennedy had gone to complete phase two of his mission. Before any of his contracted submissives, Petra had been one of the many women he'd paid to practice on. It had been brief, unspectacular and Christian had suspected that most of the money he gave her found its way up her nose. Was that what this was about, money for drugs?

"You're going to pay for the damage," said Petra, her words accompanied by the scent of stale alcohol.

"And you will pay for the kidnap and trauma of Miss Grey," said Taylor.

"Trauma? That kid hasn't experienced any trauma."

"When did she last eat?"

Christian didn't speak, he stood to the side observing Petra.

"This morning. I made her broccoli."

"And before that?"

"I dunno."

"Was that the broccoli in a regurgitated pile on your parent's bedroom floor?" asked Sawyer. "What did you mix it with, blood?"

"No, wine."

It was all Christian could do from voicing his anger, but he remembered the plan.

"You gave a three year old, wine?" Sawyer's eyes were almost popping out of his head. "What the hell kind of fucking sense is that?

Petra finally looked contrite. "I thought it might make her sleep. Does she ever sleep?" She looked over at Christian. "And do you ever talk?" The gray feline wound around Christian's ankles. "Cat got your tongue?"

"He has nothing to say to you," said Sawyer.

"Wasn't always like that, was it Christian? You used to say quite a lot to me. Do you remember? Telling me how you wanted it. You were quite the fucker back in the day."

He looked at her without response.

"You're all the same," she went on. "You, Scott, all of them. Assholes using sex to take out your issues on women."

In his pocket Christian's phone gave a distinct pattern of vibration. It was the alert to tell him that Scott McDowell was approaching. The same alert went off on both Taylor and Sawyer's phones and they needed no further instruction. Within seconds, as well as her ability to walk, Petra was deprived of her ability to speak, hear and see. Sawyer manhandled her off the sofa and out to the waiting van, where the straps and cages usually used to secure parcels out for delivery, were redeployed to keep Ms Huntley from going anywhere. Inside, Taylor straightened the place.

"Can you and Luke handle him?" asked Christian, breaking his silence.

"Of course. You go ahead. We'll meet you there."

"OK," said Christian and walked out to his car.

**xXXx**

The traffic had picked up and Christian joined the ranks of commuters driving south into the city. He didn't push the car, instead holding it at a steady speed where it gave him the opportunity to think. While Petra to some degree was right, that he had been taking out his problems on women; his problems were never that he hated women, but that that first bond of love from mother to son had been forcibly broken. He'd been let down by her and it had taken him over twenty years to forge another one with Ana. He thought of Keeley and that odd moment that had arisen between them. She'd responded to him and he knew that all he needed to do was say yes to her. But in that long moment of temptation, reality coalesced and assumed the far more desirable form of his wife. Keeley Fox had no idea of what 'anything' was to a man of his tastes. But Ana did. 'Anything' had been carefully explored and honed over their life together. Not only did Christian know Ana's body and what it could do, but she knew his body and exactly which bits of 'anything' could drive him wild. He didn't want just anything. He wanted Ana's brand of anything and more to the point he wanted it now. As he approached the exit for their house, he took it. Scott McDowell could wait a little longer.

He took the driveway a little fast and screeched to a halt in the area that was now filled with family cars. His parents were here, Kate was here and there was a rental car from the airport which meant that Carla had flown in. He drove instead to the side of the house and parked up by the security entrance, keying in the code and letting himself in. He walked through the house until he could hear people and establish where they were. He could hear Kate's excited voice coming from the living room but as he listened, there was no sound of Ana. Perhaps she was upstairs with Darcey. He took a risk and bolted up the stairs. As long as everyone was in the main body of the room he wouldn't be seen. He went to Darcey's room and sure enough, Ana was there. She was curled up fast asleep with their newly rescued daughter. He went in.

"Ana," he whispered, speaking close to her ear. She didn't stir. "Ana," he said again, stroking her hair and her face. Her breathing changed as the sensation drew her from sleep. "Ana," he repeated closer still a third time.

Her eyes flew open. "You're back. Is it over?"

"No. I haven't been yet." He pulled her hand. "Baby, I need you."

"What's the matter? What's happened?" Ana sat up.

"Nothing, I just _need_ you."

Their eyes met and Ana understood.

She delicately inched her way off the bed so as not to wake Darcey. Taking Christian's hand, they walked swiftly down the hallway to their room, which Christian quickly closed and locked the door of. Ana turned to him, her eyes narrowed.

"What's the matter? Has something happened? Are you having second thoughts?"

He shook his head. "No. I just need to be in you." Christian reached for the top button on her shirt, but Ana stayed him.

"Something _has_ happened. Tell me."

He lowered his hand and all vestiges of holding back slipped away. Before her there was no use in hiding.

"I got myself into a difficult situation with Keeley. I led her on."

"You led her on?" Ana's face was all concern. "What did you do?"

"She was innocently trying to be helpful, but I…" he sighed. "I don't want to make excuses for myself. It shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry."

"Did you kiss her?"

"No. I touched her hair."

"Show me."

He picked up a lock of Ana's hair, the backs of his fingers trailing across her skin. "That's it," he said after a moment. "I was trying to become my other self again. It slipped when I got Darcey. She asked if she could help me get it back and I implied that she could and I said it in a way that wasn't subtle."

"How did she respond to that?" Ana's voice was soft and dangerous.

"She said she'd do anything."

There was profound silence between them.

Finally Ana spoke. "And do you want her?"

"No." Christian said instantly, shaking his head. "I wanted anything to get me back in the zone, yes, but I don't want anybody else's anything, just yours. That's why I'm here. I'm sorry, Ana. It was stupid thing to do."

Ana's expression was flat, carefully guarding whatever reaction she was having.

He swallowed hard, feeling the dryness in his throat. "It's hard to be the Master of the Universe when all you want to do is to to be back home with your family. I can't do this. I'm not that man anymore." He gently led her to the bed and they sat down. "I thought staying away from you last night, setting up the room and writing the scene would help me get back there. But I stupidly didn't factor in missing you and the children so badly. By this morning, I hadn't slept well, I missed our morning time together, I missed the children and although I want to whip the living shit out of Scott McDowell for what he's put Darcey and us through, all it's going to do is probably come back to whip my ass. I should have left him to the Police. But Keeley..? I'm sorry Ana. I really am."

There was another long unreadable silence from Ana.

"Will you forgive me?"

Ana shifted position and gave him a look that rendered him contrite. "That was a huge lack of judgement on your part," she said. "But I've had to live with women's reactions to you and I think she's as much to blame as you are. Does she have any inkling of what she was on the precipice of by saying that? What about David? Where does that leave them? Is she going to tell David that she offered herself to you? Yes I forgive you, Christian, but Miss Fox and I need to have a talk."

Christian bowed his head.

"Now, about trying to recapture that way of being," she continued. "Can I make two suggestions?"

"Sure."

"Firstly, stop trying to be someone you're not. You're not that man anymore. Leave him behind and be who you are now." Ana held his attention completely. "You're an angry father, pure and simple. Leave everything to do with scenes out of it. This isn't about dominance, this is you expressing your rage at what happened to our little girl."

Christian immediately relaxed. He stroked Ana's hair, winding a strand of it between his fingers. "You're right."

"Save your Dominant side for me," she whispered. "He's _mine_." They smiled at their private joke and Ana leant forward to kiss him. He couldn't help but let it build, he wanted this woman in any way he could get her. Time and again he got lost and she found him, saved him and loved back to stability. Nobody could compete with Anastasia Grey and he pushed her back onto the bed, undoing her shirt.

A little while later, sufficiently supplied with Ana's special brand of anything, Christian held her in his arms and mused on their earlier conversation.

"What was the second thing?"

"Hmm…? What do you mean?"

"You said you wanted to make two suggestions. The first one was start being the man I am now, but you didn't tell me what the second thing was."

Ana sat up, eyes bright with vengeance.

"Take me with you."


	46. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER 46**

**Wednesday**

His Mom seated herself in the easy chair in Darcey's room.

"As soon as she stirs, let us know," said Christian.

"Of course." His Mom could sense that wherever Christian and Ana were going was connected to Darcey's rescue, but her face and tone of voice told him that she didn't like it. Not one bit.

Ana stroked her daughter's hair but Darcey didn't stir, held soundly by a deep, easy sleep. She bent to kiss the area on her forehead that Christian had wiped clean and Christian followed suit, feeling his daughter's soft, warm skin under his lips.

"Back soon, baby girl," he whispered. He kissed his Mom and taking Ana's hand walked out of the bedroom. Half way down the stairs his phone rang. It was Sawyer. "Yes?"

"I have the completed surveillance dossier on Amos King, sir."

"Thank you. Email it to me and I'll deal with it later. Anything interesting?"

"Very. But I'll let you enjoy the read. Everything's in place at the warehouse."

"And the paperwork?"

"All signed."

"Good. We'll see you shortly."

Christian ended the call to find Ana looking at him.

"Paperwork?"

He quirked a eyebrow. "Old habits die hard."

It was only a few minutes' drive to where Christian had stored the furniture and art and other sundry possessions that he didn't feel had a place in the house that he and Ana had created for their family. His large collection of paintings of the Madonna and child were now stored in protective coverings. Madonna had four children now and presented herself in a far more pleasing form than any two-dimensional canvas. Spending last night going through the pieces of his former life had finally enabled him to make a decision that he'd been putting off for far too long. A decision that had been reinforced earlier today when he'd found it so difficult to put on the persona of the man he'd once been. Ana and the children had warmed and filled him up, so was it any wonder that he couldn't inhabit his cold, empty former self? It was time to get rid of it.

"What have you planned?"

Ana's question broke the silence in the car.

"Well, I had written out what I was going to do. But as you're now part of it, maybe we should revise it so that you get your input?"

Ana nodded. "I'd like that."

"But, it's basically a sliding scale. Sloan…"

"Sloan…?" Ana faced him. Her eyes were wide.

"Yes. She fed McDowell information. He knew she'd invited Darcey to Cassidy's party and that was his way in. That's collusion in my book. And she pretty much indicted herself by her comments to Astrid. So she'll be getting her reward for thinking that she can somehow ingratiate herself with us."

"But we get on with many of the other parents at the dance school. What's the difference?"

Christian adjusted the position of his hands on the steering wheel. "None of the others try and force it. They don't seek me out, they just keep it polite and if our paths cross, usually because of Darcey, or Phoebe, I talk to them. That's how it should be. I guess that's why I like our time in Cornwall so much. Nobody gives a fuck who we are, there. We're just the family that owns Pendragon House." He looked at her. "I know exactly what you mean about allowing our children to have the freedom that we had as kids and the kind that they have when we're over there. But…"

"I know. It has to go back to how it was."

"I'm sorry Ana." He reached over and grasped her hand. "We'll get the very best people to look after them."

"Do you think we can persuade Astrid to come back?"

"Let's hope so," he smiled.

"So what have you got planned for Sloan?"

"Knowing what you do of my methods, how would you deal with her?"

Ana frowned. "Christian, we've never really done the punishment side. We agreed long ago on the limits. With those removed and I dread to think what you've decided on."

"Nothing she hasn't agreed to," he smirked.

"The paperwork?"

He grinned.

"How have they agreed to it?"

"They've all signed for something last night or this morning. Kennedy delivered a pizza to Sloan. Sawyer was a UPS man in Arlington this morning and there was a minor incident with McDermott's car in the parking garage. The supervisor just made him sign to confirm he had the insurance to cover it."

"The supervisor?"

"Well...Prescott. It's very important to have the correct paperwork. Saves them suing your ass, later."

"Unless they keep dodging it and lead you a merry dance to the altar?"

"Hmm… Yes. You never did sign your contract."

"I've signed the only contract you need. Marriage, as you know, gives you access all areas."

"And it's become my favourite kind of paperwork."

They pulled up outside a smart warehouse. There was a UPS van parked outside. As they got out, Sawyer appeared in the doorway. He looked a little uncomfortable.

"They're arranged as you wanted them."

"Good."

"I need to return the truck, but Jason is here if you need anything. He'll make the call to the Police when you're done."

"Thank you."

Ana looked concerned. "Aren't they going to be asking questions of you if you've horsewhipped the suspects?"

"We won't be here," said Christian. "We'll be at home celebrating the return of Darcey."

"Taylor and Luke, then?"

Christian shook his head. "No."

"How will they be getting out of this?"

"I'll tell you later," said Christian, taking her hand. "We don't have much time."

Inside the building it was divided up into several rooms. One was open and Ana could see the wrapped furniture and paintings. Three other doors were closed. Christian pulled her to the side and into a small office. A sheet of paper lay on the desk.

"This is what I've decided."

"Why write it down?"

"So it doesn't exceed the permissions I've had them sign."

Ana looked at the short list, written in Christian's neat handwriting.

"Which bits would you like to do?" he added.

"Some of McDowell's," she said. "I'll leave the rest to you."

"OK. Now this isn't going to be a long drawn-out process. I just want to do it and leave. These people aren't worth our time. But just one thing. Part of my list for Miss Huntley involves silence. She'll never know what hit her. Or who for that matter."

Christian pulled off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair. He was still in the black t shirt and jeans.

"I wish you hadn't worn these." Ana hooked her finger into one of the belt loops and pulled on it.

"Why?"

"This is… our stuff. For me it's the equivalent of you walking around in… sexy underwear." She screwed up her face. "And now I have the mental image of you walking around in my underwear. Eww!"

Christian smiled. "I never did look good in electric blue, so your wish is my command. Well, hopefully. If they fit." He went into the storage room and emerged a few minutes later wearing an extremely snug pair of work pants. He looked a little bashful. "It was my first suit from Saville Row. I kept it." He pulled at the waistband. "But, I've expanded."

Ana looked at the way his thighs and crotch strained the material. "Nicely," she approved, stepping forward and running her hand over the fabric, tracing his length with her finger and making him even more defined.

"Careful," he whispered. "I might forget why I'm here."

Ana smiled carnally and released him.

"Are you ready?" He said, taking her hand.

"Yes."

He reached for the first door handle. "Then let's begin."

**xXXx**

Something was going on, Andrea knew it. Luke had left the house this morning at the crack of dawn and hadn't replied to any messages that she'd sent. Ditto Christian. Even yesterday the important emails had been done. But not this morning. He wasn't answering calls, texts, emails and nobody at the house seemed to know where he was – or they weren't telling her if they did. He hadn't booked leave or hadn't told her that he was incommunicado, so she knew not to waste time trying to get a reply. The morning had dragged, more so because of Andrea's irritation. She didn't know for sure that she was being left out in the cold, but she'd worked for Christian long enough to know that something was definitely not right.

She decided to take a break. "I'm going for a coffee and a pastry. Do you want one?"

Olivia shook her head. "No. And if you eat too many more your skirts won't fit."

Andrea rolled her eyes. "Oh spare me the wrath of the skinny police. I've had two children and my stomach's decided to turn into a saggy waterbed. Pastries are the least of my problems."

Olivia bit into an apple. "I'm just telling you the truth, hun. And Stephen White doesn't like women to eat between meals, unless it's fruit."

Andrea turned back, her hand firmly on her hip. "He's a fictional character, for crying out loud! I think GEH needs to get that goddamn book out of its collective head and get back to work!"

Olivia scoffed. "Good luck with that."

Andrea walked to the elevator. Her heart felt heavy now that she knew that the book really was Christian's story. She couldn't read it herself and she couldn't bear to see the café at lunchtime, where she was surrounded by women going fifty shades of pink over their e-readers. Others were sat in groups obviously discussing it. She pressed the call button and listened as the rumble of machinery brought the car up to the thirtieth floor. There was a ping as it opened and Melanie Clearwater dashed out, almost knocking Andrea over.

"Where's Mr Grey? I can't raise him!" GEH's head of Public Relations was anxious and ghostly white.

"Probably on Mars with all the luck I've had getting him this morning." Andrea frowned and reached out a hand to reassure her colleague. "What's the matter?"

"My email and phone have gone fucking nuts. Something personal about Christian has just appeared on news sites all over the area."

"What?" Andrea blinked. "Personal?" Her heart turned to lead. "What kind of…?"

"Oh. My. God…" said Olivia in a tone that could only mean disaster. Andrea watched the mouth of her co-worker drop slowly open. She dashed over to Olivia's desk and stood behind her chair.

Oh the screen in front of them was a picture of Christian with the group of fifteen women from the strange cemetery photograph. The women that Andrea now knew were his previous submissives. That was bad enough. What was worse was the article underneath. They might as well have put in letters forty feet high on the side of Mount Rainier, that Christian Grey was a sexual deviant.


	47. Chapter 47

**CHAPTER 47**

**Wednesday **

Ana followed Christian into a small, windowless room. It was empty of furniture apart from an industrial-looking gray metal cabinet. Sloan Sharp was sat opposite it, her back against the wall and looking to have been dragged from her bed. Her blonde hair was in disarray, she had a pale, puffy face and her clothing, while not quite being rabbit-print pyjamas, wasn't far off. She got to her feet, which were bare and her vermillion toenails stood out against the backdrop of beige carpet and pale skin.

"Where's my daughter?" she said, eyes wide with anxiety.

"How ironic?" said Christian. "We've been asking much the same thing for most of the last two days."

Sloan dropped her head.

"Yeah, _hurts,_ doesn't it?" His words were harsh. "And you've only been away from her for an hour. We had to endure thirty eight hours of that. Thirty eight _hours_ of agony that you could have prevented, but didn't."

Christian began to walk slowly around Sloan, his hands clasped behind his back. He completed a circuit, stopped in front and faced her. "Look at me!" he barked.

Sloan raised her heavy head, eyes fearful and gulping as Christian Grey fixed her with a look that could probably melt steel.

"I-I-I'm sorry."

Christian leaned into her. "Oh, you will be." He resumed his silent circling.

Sloan shifted from foot to foot. "I need to pee."

He completed an entire circuit of the woman before returning to face her and deliver his answer.

"Tough."

"That's inhuman, you can't stop me!" Sloan dragged up some courage and Christian gestured to the door.

"By all means," his smile didn't meet his eyes.

Sloan gave him a wary look and then darted past Ana out of the door and into the central area. She tried the two other doors but they were locked, before running into the largest room where their possessions were. Taylor came out of the office and placed himself in front of the main door, just in case she should bolt. She couldn't find what she was looking for.

"Where's the bathroom?"

Christian ran a fingernail under his thumbnail and flicked away a piece of detritus. He looked at her in triumph. "There isn't one. This is a storage unit, not offices. As I said. Tough. You'll just have to hold it." He indicated for Ms Sharp to return to the room. "You can pee outside when I'm finished."

She walked back into the room, irritation now showing on her face. "So, what are you going to do, punish me?"

"That I am, Ms Sharp."

"What are you trying to do, humiliate me?"

"Oh no. I think you've managed that one, yourself."

Sloan frowned and put her hands on her hips. "How so?"

"Eddie," replied Christian. "Or should I say Scott McDowell."

"Who?"

"Eddie's real name is Scott McDowell."

"No it's not."

"I expect to be believed, Ms Sharp."

"Well how do you know him?" Her words were delivered with a sneer.

"He just happens to be married to a friend of ours." Ana saw Sloan's face pale and Christian gave a low chuckle. "I'll let you find out what he really does at your leisure. But for now, let's return to the matter at hand. Punishment."

Sloan put her hands on her hips. "You touch me and I'll sue you."

"Deal," said Christian. "I'm not going to touch you anyway. I don't have the paperwork for that."

"So, what are you going to do – bore me to death?" Sloan rolled her eyes.

"Fool," muttered Ana, noticing the little quirk of a smile just at the corner of Christian's mouth. That gesture was always a red rag to a bull.

"No. I'm a very great believer in the punishment fitting the crime and in my eyes, you're the conduit through which McDowell gained access to our daughter. The _gateway,_ if you will." Christian put a strange stress on the word and resumed his circling. "Are you much acquainted with the term 'six of the best'?"

"I can't say I am," she folded her arms. "Although, I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"Indeed I am, Ms Sharp. Lock the door, please, Ana."

Ana turned the catch as Christian walked over to the metal cabinet, opened it and took from it three short canes of varying thickness. The sight of them was a shock, both to Sloan and to Ana. Christian turned to Ana, turning his back to Sloan and gave his wife a look that asked whether she was OK. Butterflies bloomed in her stomach, but she gave an imperceptible nod and Christian picked up on it, returning a small nod in acknowledgement.

Sloan managed to overcome her shock to stutter out what there was no way he was using those on her.

"Six quick strokes on your behind in return for thirty eight hours of agony for us. I think you're getting off very lightly."

"No, I'm not! It's… humiliating."

"Well, you should have thought about that when you decided to collude with McDowell."

"I didn't do it intentionally! Your kid wasn't coming and then she showed up!"

"And we can't take her to a burger bar without fear of her being abducted? What sort of life does that give her?"

Sloan ignored him. "Ana, you can't possibly agree with this. Are you really going to stand there while your husband hits a woman?"

Standing behind Sloan, Christian mouthed the words 'trust me,' to her.

"Yes," she replied. "You hurt us and you deserve to be punished."

"You won't get away with this, the pair of you. You'll be hearing from my lawyer!"

"Oh, I don't think so," said Christian with a supercilious smirk, before turning serious and placing himself in front of Sloan. "Choose one."

Sloan touched the thinnest one and Ana wondered why Christian had given her the choice. She'd ask him later.

"Go over to the cabinet and lean over until your chest is flat on it."

Sloan glowered at him and then reluctantly carried out his instruction.

"Six, yes?" she clarified.

"Yes," said Christian. "Just six."

Ana could see Sloan tense up as she closed her eyes and braced herself. Christian took up position at the side of her. He didn't touch the woman's pyjama pants - something Ana was very glad about. Nothing more was said before a deft flick of Christian's wrist brought the cane into contact with Sloan's behind.

"Ahhh!" gasped Sloan, who hadn't time to react further before the second came, then the third, the fourth and fifth strokes, placed accurately across her behind. This was nothing like Ana remembered. It wasn't sensual, or gave her any indication that Christian was taking pleasure from it. This was quickly administered justice, no more. Christian adjusted his position and the final stroke came down at a 45 degree angle to the previous five, letting loose a howl from Sloan and a damp patch that spread down her legs. Christian put down the cane.

"You will be taken home," he said, "And you will confess your part in this matter to the Police." And with no further interaction with her, he left the room, guiding Ana ahead of him.

**xXXx**

Grey Plaza was turning into uproar as floor after floor read the news report and passed it on. On the top floor a small group had gathered. Olivia and Melanie had been joined by David Brannigan and unsurprisingly, Susannah herself. All of them were now clustered around Andrea. Her first call had been to Barney Sullivan, barking at him to do whatever he could to get the website down. Now she was locked in a circuit, repeatedly trying her husband's phone, Taylor's phone, Christian's phone and Ana's phone.

"Nothing," she said after the second time through had still proved unsuccessful. "Where in God's name are they?" Andrea looked at David. "Do you think this is why Christian isn't here today, that he knew about this in advance?"

David shook his head. "Sullivan would've already known about it and you would have known about it."

"True," Andrea admitted, dropping back into her chair. In the corner, Melanie Clearwater was on her phone while against the desk, Susannah was checking her emails and texts. She was pale and sick-looking. "Bad?" said Andrea.

Susannah nodded. "I can't read any more. I'm just waiting for the others to get in touch."

"What's up?" asked David.

Susannah looked up. "People are expressing their opinion of me and it would appear I'm now the whore of Babylon."

"Jealousy is never nice," said Andrea. "Turn it off."

Melanie approached them, eyeing Susannah speculatively. "Well, I suppose in the absence of Mr Grey, I'd better get your version of events. At least then I'll have something to go on."

"I can't," said Susannah.

"Oh, you can," said Melanie completely failing to understand.

"No," Susannah repeated. "I _can't_." There was a moment of stony silence between the two women.

"Details of Mr Grey's personal relationships are protected by a non-disclosure agreement." Andrea explained. Melanie was not pleased.

"How convenient. But, as it's all over the world, I think an NDA is a moot point, right now, don't you?" Melanie stared at her, but Susannah said nothing. "I can't help him to get out of this unless I know the facts."

The office area went deathly quiet as all eyes and ears turned to Susannah. Even the phone stopped trilling.

"Is the article on the Seattle Times website, correct?" asked Melanie. "Just yes or no. Nod or shake your head, even." Susannah looked at Andrea with anguish in her eyes. "If I know the truth then I can work out what to say to all these people who are calling me demanding a comment. If I don't know then I might say the wrong thing and make things worse – although how the fuck it could be worse, I don't know. We're supposed to be holding the opening ceremony for this damn building tomorrow. Guess that's not going to be front page news." Susannah continued to look to Andrea and the PA could see that being caught between angering Mr Grey by breaking the agreement and helping Mr Grey by breaking the agreement was a battle being hard fought in her head. "Susie," said Melanie, imploring her. "Knives of the longest kind will be out for him. Andrea, Olivia, myself and most of the woman in GEH are all paid-up members of the 'Christian Insanity' club."

"The what?" asked David.

Melanie looked at him searching for the right words.

"It's OK, I'll print the relevant bit off," said Andrea, clicking at her computer and sending something to the printer. She brought it back for him, but Melanie took it from her and cleared her throat.

"All of us," she read, "once we've stopped trying to seduce Mr Grey fall into a pathetic state of affairs which we have called Christian-ity; short for Christian Insanity. You know it's hopeless, but you still love him, will do anything for him and will adore him from afar until you're cold in your grave. Sadly, the photocopier thing never leaves your head and the Diet Coke advert is crap compared to Mr Grey walking through your office. You may wish to remain seated for that event and keep fresh underwear in your desk at all times. He's so potent that possibly even looking into his eyes could get you pregnant, so it's best not to do that, because you know you'll only drool and you'll be out of Kleenex." With a flourish, Melanie handed the sheet of paper to David.

He looked at it, eyes stunned and mouth dropping open at the words before him. "You're all mad."

Andrea stood up but fixed her eyes on Susannah. "Quite possibly. But that's by the by." She slapped the top of the desk. "I don't know about you, but my pledge stands as much today as it did way back then when we concocted this insane state of affairs, B.A."

"B.A?" asked Susannah. "British Airways?"

"Before Ana," said Olivia with a roll of her eyes and a smile like the sun. "Oh my God, you had to be there. It was…"

"Yeah, enough," Andrea gave her a gentle push. "But I for one will go all out to do _anything_ for him, so who's with me?"

"Me!" said Olivia, slapping her hand on top of Andrea's.

"Me!" said Melanie slapping hers down on Olivia's.

"I guess me," said David, covering the women's hands with his.

They all looked at Susannah.

"Come on, Susie," said Melanie.

"He'll sue my ass off."

Melanie peered around her. "With that tiny thing, he won't get far."

Susannah looked at each one of them and then placed her hand on top of the others. "Yes. I'll do anything to help him."

"Good girl," said David and Susannah stared at him.


	48. Chapter 48

**CHAPTER 48**

**Wednesday**

Luke Sawyer stood in the UPS depot's yard making arcs in the dust on the concrete with his foot. The inspector was checking over the vehicle he'd returned. It was all there in exactly the same condition that he'd borrowed it in. Straps, cages, blankets for cushioning, vehicle cleaned, tidied, vacuumed out, tank refilled. Yes, yes, he'd been through the checklist.

"Is this yours?"

The supervisor came out of the back and handed him a large gray cat.

"Oh jeez," sighed Sawyer. "How the hell did you get in there?"

"Sign for it, please."

"What?"

"Sign for it. We'll have to charge you for cat hair removal."

"You're joking, right?" The supervisor didn't look as if he knew the meaning of the word 'joke.' "I'll do it," Luke said and tried to hand the cat back but the supervisor stepped away.

"I'm allergic."

"Well, I can't just put it down." Luke stared at the man, trying all permutations of the facial expression, 'a little help here?' It seemed to work and presently, the man arrived with a brown hessian mail bag into which Luke put the cat and then handed it to the Supervisor. He climbed back into the truck and carefully swept the remains of cat hair out of it.

His phone buzzed against his backside as his wife called for about the thirty seventh time this morning. He couldn't have a conversation with her until the perps were in Police custody. Andrea may be calling about something innocent, such as what they should pick up for dinner tonight, but knowing her she'd find some way to wheedle out of him why her boss also wasn't answering his phone. Luke climbed into his car and placed the writhing mail bag in the passenger footwell and started the engine. It was only a short drive to the storage unit, thank goodness. After that, Jason could probably magic up a pet carrier – in that way he could magic up anything - to transport the cat back to Arlington.

He hadn't got more than 200 yards down the road when the cat escaped from the bag, jumped into his footwell and got in the way of the pedals.

Luke reached down to yank the cat out, which caused him to swerve into the other lane. An oncoming driver gave him a sustained blast on the horn, but Luke ignored it as he tried to get hold of a scrag of fur. He managed it, only to bring the hissing and spitting animal up with its claws embedded in his hand and arm.

"Yaaaaaahh! yelled Luke tossing the cat into the back seat, where it promptly jumped back into the front and eyed him with vengeance. "Bastard," he muttered and pulled over to suck the blood from his wounds. His phone rang again and pulling it out he saw that it was Andrea yet again. This time there was also a text message.

**ANSWER YOUR FUCKING PHONE!**

In the best traditions of marital harmony, he'd need to let her win this one. Andrea pissed could deny him sex for weeks.

"Hi," he said answering the call as brightly as he could manage, immediately pulling the phone away from him as he got both barrels and several more straight down his earhole. He put her on speaker phone.

"…tleTimes. Barney's onto it now, but you have to tell me where Christian is, Melanie's phone's almost melting here. You have to find some way to tell him. He's going to go supernova!"

Luke swallowed. The important bit was missing.

"Uh… honey, I missed the first part."

"Oh, for fuck's sake" came the impatient mutter down the line. "Are you listening now?"

"Yes."

"Both ears?"

"Yes, dear."

"OK. About a half hour ago a report appeared on the website of the _Seattle Times_ with a picture of Christian with the women in that picture from the cemetery. You know the one?"

Luke was instantly alert. "Yes."

"It's him and them, together. You know like in a selfie?"

"Yes…" This didn't sound so bad. Not thirty eight phone calls worth of bad. "Well, the article claims that Christian was in a Dominant/submissive relationship with each of those women."

Oh it was thirty eight phone calls worth of bad. Well, that was that, then. Luke sighed and looked across at the cat. The secret former life of Christian Trevelyan Grey was well and truly out of the bag.

"Where is he?" asked Andrea. "Someone needs to tell him. I can't raise anyone."

'Someone' was Andrea's code for 'you need to do it.'

He thought about that for a moment.

"Luke?" she asked.

"Yeah?"

"You need to tell him."

Fucking great, he thought.

There was a commotion on the other end of the line and the sound of agitated voices. Luke turned up the speaker, but Andrea came back on the line.

"Barney's got it down, tell him. But it was entered with Scott McDowell's login details. Apparently, the Times haven't seen him today and he's not called in sick. They don't know where he is."

"That's OK. We do."

"You do? So where's that?"

"Honey I…"

There was a sigh. "Can't tell me, I know, I know."

"Tonight. I'll tell you everything tonight."

"I already worked it out."

He took the phone off speaker and held it back to his ear. "And? He asked gently. This could have intensely personal ramifications for his wife and her history of being physically abused as a child. She'd already reacted badly to a snippet of it.

"I'm standing by him," she said. He could hear that defiance in her voice and it made him proud. "Lots of us will stand by him."

"Yes we will," he said adding his support.

"Tell him that?"

"I will, but he might not be that receptive at first?"

"I know. Hurricane Grey might have a lot of blowing himself out to do."

Luke gave a smile. "I think I know which direction to aim him in."

"Take care, Luke. I love you."

"Love you too, honey. See you later."

Luke ended the call. The cat had settled down on the seat as if he owned the place.

"What happened to demon kitty?"

The cat blinked at him.

"Nevermind," said Sawyer and hit the gas pedal.

**xXXx**

As the door closed on Sloan, Ana turned to face Christian. There was no expression on his face, but her head was bursting with questions. Two particularly came to mind.

"Why are you so confident that Sloan Sharp can't sue you for that?"

"Because I have her written consent to do exactly what I did. To hold her for no more than ninety minutes and administer punishment in the form of caning. She signed the document."

"But she didn't know what she was signing?"

"She'll think twice before trying to cosy up to people like me, again."

"Christian," Ana felt sad. "You can't just dole out random punishments. I'm not sure that the old you is that far beneath the surface."

He turned to face her. "Do you want me to apologise to her? Ana, you and I went through thirty eight _hours_ of agony wondering what had happened to Darcey. Her agony was over in less than ten seconds."

Ana rubbed his arms. "Just… be careful, please. That's all I ask."

"OK," Christian sighed.

"And why was the last stroke different?"

He reached for her as if to steady himself. In return she placed her hands on his hips.

"It's a technique called the 'five bar gate,'" he said. "You administer five strokes horizontally and one diagonally."

"Any particular reason?"

He looked a little uncomfortable. "It opens up the welts," he said quietly. "It makes it hurt a lot more and the effects are longer lasting."

He didn't look too good.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so. It's just…" he shook his head. "I feel… uneasy."

"Sick?"

"No. Unsettled. As if… I wonder if everything's alright?" Christian walked to the little room where Taylor was sat. He smirked and beckoned to Ana. As she reached him Christian placed his arm around her shoulder, drawing her in so she could see around the door jamb. "Everything's fine," he said. "So fine that Taylor's let loose his little secret." Ana watched her husband's right hand man waving his arms in a familiar rhythmic way. "He's conducting the New York Philharmonic," said Christian, all smiles. Ana giggled seeing this rare vignette of Taylor on a break. Their phones were face down on the desk in front of him.

"I should check if Darcey's OK." As she stepped forward Taylor caught her movement and instantly dropped his hands and flushed pink at being caught. "We all have our secrets Jason, and yours is safe with me." She stepped forward and patted his shoulder. "Everything OK?"

"Yes. No calls."

"But they're face down?"

"I can feel the vibration through my leg."

"Ah, but mine isn't set to vibrate," said Ana and picked up her phone. "Oh damn! It's flat. I forgot to charge it last night. That's because you weren't there," she griped to Christian. "You broke the routine."

"I'm 'routine', am I?" he said drily. "That sounds worryingly in the same category as 'boring,' 'comfortable,' 'familiar,' 'beige,' and that perennial favourite of mine, '_nice._'"

Taylor looked at his watch. "Mr Grey it's nearly nine. You should probably attend to Miss Huntley before your guest arrives. She won't like to be kept waiting."

"Indeed. Ana, do you want to wait here? There isn't going to be any conversation."

On the desk Christian's phone rang.

"It's just Andrea," said Taylor, lifting it to see the screen. "She's been calling all morning. You haven't checked in and she's most likely getting antsy."

"I'll speak to her," said Ana, reaching for Christian's phone. "You go and thrash Miss Huntley. Give her a five bar gate from me."

Christian stepped forward and kissed her. "Now who's doling out random punishments?"

He disappeared and Ana answered his phone.

"Hi Andrea, it's Ana."

She stood listening to her husband's executive assistant, her face paling to the gray of her name as the horrific truth was relayed to her.

"Taylor?" she said weakly. Jason was instantly on his feet. She held out the phone to him, and his arm caught her as she slumped down, narrowly making it into the chair.

"Andrea?" Taylor listened and as he did so, he pulled out his phone, looked at it and in frustration hurled it across the room. It smashed through the window and landed on the hood of Luke Sawyer's car as he screeched to a halt outside. The next second Luke was in the building. Jason was still on the phone. "He's just arrived." he said to Andrea. "OK, we'll tell him. Tell Melanie to stand by." He ended the call. "I'm not a religious man, but Holy Mary Mother of God, how the hell have we managed to miss this?"

"It's just Andrea. Andrea always calls," said Luke. "Familiarity breeds…"

"A fuck up," muttered Taylor.

"Hey, I don't know about that," mused Luke. "McDowell's here. I'd call that fortuitous."

Outside, an ancient, but immaculate, chauffeur-driven Mercedes slowly drew up to the unit.

"She's here."

"Ana, are you OK? Taylor bent down beside her.

"It's all come out?" she whispered.

"It would appear so, yes. Barney Sullivan's got it down, but, the connection's been made…"

"So, everybody knows?"

"Everybody who reads a news site or a newspaper will do by morning, yes."

Luke went outside and held the door open for Christian's guest. Into the plain, utilitarian storage unit came the ornately-dressed Madame Courel, who was accompanied by her chauffeur; a tall, willowy young brunette-haired woman with a pneumatically-enhanced chest. The chauffeur carried an old-style Doctor's bag.

"Madame," said Ana rising to her feet. "Thank you for coming."

"A very great pleasure," replied Madame in her clipped English. "It is important to help friends. Especially today _n'cest-pas?_" She tapped Ana's hand. "Despicable," she said. "What business is it of anyone's? It's ancient history. Whoever this is I hope…" She was cut off by the arrival of Christian.

"Madame," he said, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. "A pleasure to see you and thank you for being here."

"I am always happy to administer justice and I was just saying to Ana that…"

"Christian," said Ana jumping in. "Could I have a word before you start, please? In private?"

"Sure, baby." He looked at her with narrowed eyes, knowing instinctively that something wasn't right. They moved out of the room and into the hallway, only to see Sawyer coming through the door with a gray cat under his arm.

Christian pointed. "Is that...?"

"The Huntley's cat, yes. It was in the back of the truck."

The cat wriggled to get away and Luke, not wanting to suffer another injury, let it go. The cat went straight to Christian and rubbed around his legs. Following him when Ana pulled him with her into the room of furniture.

She pulled him over to the bed. It was covered over with a plastic mattress protector and the half-length posts where the canopy slotted in, were swaddled in cream cloths. Ana sat down and pulled him to her. He was no fool. He searched her face intently.

"What's the matter? Are you worried about Sloan?"

"No," she shook her head. "Christian, I have something truly hideous to tell you. You remember the picture that you told me about. The one of you with your…"

"Yes," he replied. "What about it?"

"Well, the picture and the link between you and those women has been made public. It looks like Scott set up a page on the _Seattle Times_ website that if he wasn't there to deactivate it, it would be published. Barney's got it down, now, but it was live for about a half hour. A lot of people saw it and a lot of people are asking questions."

Christian didn't say anything for what, to Ana, felt like a year.

"They know I was a Dominant?"

"Yes. That's what Scott called you. He also named all the women in the picture, including Susannah."

Christian said nothing and the only indication that he was in any way affected by what she'd told him, was his breathing. It was quick and hard. Suddenly he stood up.

"I'll get Taylor to take you home."

"No," she reached for him. "I want to stay here."

He gently pushed her hands away. "Out of the question. I want you at home with the children, where I know you're safe."

"I want to stay with you."

"No, Ana," His voice was verging on harsh. "You're going home."

"I'm not! I know you want to lash out and if Sloan is anything to go by, then I'm worried that you're not going to know when to stop."

"Sandrine is here. She knows where the line is."

"Well, if Sandrine is here then I'm staying here. He kidnapped our daughter and I think I'm entitled to my own share of retribution."

His expression was mulish. "You most definitely won't know when to stop."

"So it's a Dominant's only club?"

"For Scott McDowell, yes. Dominant to Dominant and I don't want you here."

"How does that work? Butt plugs at high noon?"

Christian didn't take her attempt at a joke very well.

"I don't want you here," he repeated. "I want you safe."

The atmosphere changed between them and Christian softened, closing the space between them and caressing her face.

"I'm sure my reputation is now flowing down the sewers of the city. But I don't want them to have any chance of getting to you. They can do what they want to me, I don't care about that. But I do care about my wife and my family. And yes, I'm sure you're guessing that I don't want you here because I don't want you to see this piece of me."

Ana caught his hand and placed it over her heart.

"You've heard me time and again tell you that my love for you is unconditional. That means I love all the pieces of you. The cute bits, the silly bits, the sexy bits, the angry bits and the hurty bits. Especially the hurty bits. I love those so much. Don't send me away, Christian," she whispered. "My place is wherever you are."

He dropped his head. "I still don't want you to see this." He stroked her hair. "I don't want this in your head."

"Then I don't want it in yours. Leave it to Madame and come home with me."

"No," he said.

Ana sat back down on the bed, crossing her legs. "Then, I'm staying. The cat jumped up onto the bed beside her and she stroked it. "I guess we'll both have to get used to the sewer."

He bent over, placing his hands on his knees so that his face was level with hers.

"You know, sometimes I am _this_ far," he brought up pinched fingers but said nothing as the look in his eyes turned darker and more carnal. "And to think we started this with me wanting to test _your_ limits."

Ana stroked her husband's face.

"He kidnapped our little girl and now he's told the world what you once were. I for one would like to find out what his problem is."

"Women, for one. That's why I've brought Madame in."

Ana smiled brightly. "You know, I'd really like to see her in action."

Christian stood up and took her hand. "Then, come."


	49. Chapter 49

**CHAPTER 49**

**Wednesday**

Madame and her companion were in the room that had previously housed Sloan. Madame was in her usual black calf-length ballet practice dress with her hair swept up into a bun. As the couple entered, she turned to Ana, blanking Christian entirely.

"Denude it. You'll find the necessary in the bag." Sandrine flicked her head towards the open Doctor's case. "We will prepare," she added, taking the woman's hand and leaving the room. Ana looked at Christian for help.

"Denude it? Denude what?"

"Me. I'm the 'it,'" said Christian. "There's only one sex in Madame's private world. She's expecting you to put me in whatever she's prescribed." Ana's eyes widened in alarm, but Christian's face broke out into a smirk. "You're the top."

Ana went to the bag and pulled from it what could only be described as a triangle of fabric on a chain. She looked through the contents of the bag for something else, but that was all there was.

She held it up, her top lip curving into a sneer. "This?"

"It's about emasculation," said Christian, mirroring Ana's dislike.

She walked back holding it out. "You'd better put it on."

Christian shook his head. "No. Denude is a very specific instruction. You're the one that needs to put it on me. You're in charge."

She reached for the hem of his t-shirt, paused, then took her hands away and looked at him. She was silent for a moment, her face sad. "You know," she whispered, "if the press came in here right now, any chance you had to refute what McDowell has said will be dead in the water."

Christian ran his hands down Ana's arms, reassuring her.

"Everything I have ever done was with consent. He knows that and I'm keen to know why he feels it's necessary to make a big deal out of stating the damned obvious. So, to get that answer alone, would you _please_ get me out of my clothes?"

Ana lifted her chin, a smile toying on her lips.

Christian started to mirror it and then before her eyes, his face arranged itself into one that she'd seen only once before.

"My Queen," he said lowering his gaze to the floor.

The shock of it stung her, the blood suddenly pounding in her ears. He was submitting to her, but in that moment, his history as Elena's sub for six years rushed in and clamored for her attention. it took her a moment to be able to form her words.

"You never used term that with her, did you?" Ana's whispered entreaty was met with a shake of her husband's head. If they were going to do this, then it had to come from them alone, not from echoes of his past. A sudden flutter of butterflies within made her place her hand on her abdomen to settle herself. She'd never formally assumed Dominance over her husband. Yes, sure there'd been plenty of teasings, but they'd never gone so far as to create a formal scene for it.

Christian stood with his head bowed and his hands by his sides as Ana wrestled with what to do and how to say it. She'd never done this before and a little preparation might have been useful! Her silence and uneven breathing caused Christian to peek up.

"Are you OK?" he whispered, being husbandly rather than submissive.

She held out the scanty garment. "What do I do?"

"It's up to you. There are no rules. No particular words. You just need to…" he shrugged and smirked, "get me naked. But not in a sexy way," he added. "Because then I'll just want you."

"Get you naked in a non-sexy way?" She thought for a moment and then realised that she knew one way to do that. The thought made her wince.

"What?" Christian frowned.

She shook her head but didn't tell him. Straightening up she adopted the stance that Madame had taught her, to be poised, erect and in control. It instantly brought her husband to heel as he understood that Ana was now in charge. He lowered his gaze.

She bent down and unlaced his tennis shoe pulling on it to get him to lift his foot. She pulled off his shoe and sock making short work of the other foot as Christian placed his hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Standing up she grasped the hem of his black t shirt again. "Arms up," she said and she saw him bite back a smirk. She pulled the t-shirt over his head and realised that it felt horribly wrong. This wasn't about dominance, she was being Mom. It shattered the pretense.

"I can't do this," she muttered, turning the t-shirt the right way out and folding it, displaying ingrained 'Mom' behaviour.

"You can," came the whispered reply. "But I'm thirty-eight… not four." The word seemed to be a struggle for him to say.

"I thought you didn't want anything sexy?"

"I know and… I don't but, if you're going to play Mom…"

They looked at one another and Ana understood. If she was going to do it like that, it would be unfair to him to end him horribly tangled up with his long worked-at issues over his own mother.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking at his feet.

"S'ok," he whispered, grasping her free hand. "Just do it how you want to."

She looked back up at him, standing meekly in front of her naked to the waist. If she had the time she'd spend it running her hands over his chest, marveling that she could and feeling his lovely warm skin under her hands. She'd take in the scent of him, running her nose over his chest, closing her eyes and noting the point where it changed and became stronger around his armpits. His scent was important, it could both calm and arouse her. But there wasn't really time for that. Madame was waiting.

The tight pants that he'd changed into almost needed peeling off and getting them down below his hips released a very grateful part of him. She pushed them down to his ankles and he stepped out of them one foot at a time before she slung the pants across the room. From her position kneeling in front of him she looked up. But what came back down to her in his face was not the expression that would encourage her to pleasure him. It was a blankness, which left her not knowing what to do.

"Do you want to claim it?" he whispered, but it only served to make her more confused. This was what she'd normally do. Of course she wanted to claim it, but how was that being in charge? She pinched the bridge of her nose and the next second her husband was back, kneeling with her, hands on her shoulders and his face in its usual arrangement.

"This isn't easy. I can't…"

"Don't overthink it, you can do this, Ana. You're my Queen and my Queen can do whatever she wants to me."

Other concerns popped into her head. "What if I need some help in there and Madame is expecting me not to let you speak?"

"She can't control our relationship unless we allow her to. Just hold my hand and if I want to speak I'll give yours a squeeze then you can give me permission." Ana sighed and Christian stroked her face. "What's the matter?"

"This feels so wrong."

"Oh, Ana, for me it feels so right." He kissed her. "This isn't me playing a role, my love, I'm truly reflecting how I feel about you. How I've always felt about you. Me submitting to you, Ana, is pleasure itself." He fingered the scanty scrap of material in her hand. "Dress me," he whispered.

He stood up and resting his hand on Ana's shoulder stepped, first one foot and then the other into it. Ana pulled it up, gently pressing him down as the triangle of material covered him. There was a clasp on the chain and she adjusted it to rest lightly around his hips. There was a second one that ran through his legs.

"It needs to be tight enough to hold me down," he whispered.

Ana smirked. "Chaining up the beast?" She gave him a wink. He reached for her hair and then remembered himself, letting his hands drop to his sides.

She chastised him with her eyes and he pulled a face.

"Can't keep my damn hands off you," he admitted.

She shortened the chain, making a show of ensuring that the small triangle covered him properly. She smiled as her touch made him strain at the fabric and she placed a kiss on it.

"Laters, baby," she said looking up at eyes that were most definitely not submissive. They were hungry and the pleasure sped to her deepest points. She stood up and stepped back to admire the sight of his lightly tanned skin and softly defined abs, set off by the delicate golden chain around his hips. Oh, she was a lucky bitch!

"You'll do," she said and then looked at him, confused. "What now?" she asked.

"You take me through."

Taking his hand Ana led him out of the room and down to the third door, opening it and guiding Christian through it. It was another pale-painted windowless room. A harsh strip light on the ceiling illuminated the familiar sight of their St Andrew's cross up against the wall. Scott McDowell was naked and strapped to it with his buttocks facing the room.

From nowhere she was hit by a reaction that exploded out of her.

"No!" She cried.

Madame, the nameless woman, Christian and even Scott himself gave her their full attention in the silence that followed. Even she wasn't at first aware of what she'd reacted to. But gradually her mind provided the explanation. That cross was _hers_. On it she received exquisite pleasure from Christian. McDowell's _bits_ being anywhere near it sullied her most private space.

"Get him off it. That's _mine._"

Christian squeezed her hand but she ignored him, standing her ground until she saw Madame concede and motion to her girl to unfasten him.

"I need a bar and bindings," Madame said, issuing an instruction that nobody responded to.

Again there was a squeeze on her hand.

"You may speak," said Ana, feeling extremely odd giving her husband permission to speak.

"Would my Queen like me to get them for Madame?" As Christian would know what exactly Madame wanted and more importantly, where he stored them, she said yes to that. She reflected as he walked from the room, what a very nice sight his ass was, circled and bisected by the gold chain. When she looked back, Madame was in front of her.

"I am so very sorry."

"No, I…" She couldn't explain it. She wouldn't have ever thought that it would have provoked such a reaction in herself, but yet it had. The cross had become dear to her. A deeply private, but much loved part of their life. And damn it, she missed it! They should never have sold Escala.

Christian returned carrying a spreader bar, bandages and a coiled length of fabric strap. Bandages? What the..?

Head bowed and kneeling he presented them to Ana.

She stroked his hair. "Good man," she murmured, listening to the unfamiliar words on her lips and she received the items from him and took them to Madame. Having no idea of what was expected of her, she presented them to the woman with a small curtsey. It seemed to be acceptable. Ana returned to Christian. He was still kneeling on the floor and looked uncomfortable. The whole thing was uncomfortable she wanted to normalize it as much as she could.

"Stand up," she said quietly and he did so immediately. "Stand behind and wrap your arms around me."

He did as he was told, his mouth finding itself a place close to her ear.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Madame was watching them and she gestured to the cross.

"I am going to need it as anchor point. Does that give you an issue?"

Ana shook her head. "No, Madame."

"Good." She turned to her companion. "Bridget, bind it."

As the woman bound McDowell, Ana looked at him. Unlike Christian whose modesty was protected by a small triangle of fabric, McDowell was naked, but she found nothing interesting in what he had on offer and she focused on his face, meeting an expression that was giving nothing away. Certainly, it didn't display an ounce of contrition, which instantly ignited a hot spark of anger within her. This man had abducted her daughter, put her through thirty-eight hours of unbearable agony and splashed her husband's ancient history all over the internet for which he was showing no remorse. Ana's anger grew as Bridget and Madame tied McDowell's arms above the elbows with the bandages, braced his legs apart with bar and then using the strap anchored him in a bent over position to the top right corner of the cross. It wasn't a position in which he could easily keep his balance. Ana spied a selection of familiar looking implements laid out on the floor and mentally selected one.

"Let go," she whispered to Christian and he obeyed her. "Stay here," she added as she went to the selection, picked up a riding crop and with every atom of anger marshalled at her disposal she lashed out at McDowell.

"This is from my daughter!" She landed a blow on his right butt cheek.

"This is from my husband!" She added a second on his left one.

"And this is from me!" His angle and widely spread legs enabled her to land the third squarely on the soft wrinkled bag of flesh between his legs. She hoped he'd never known pain like it.


	50. Chapter 50

**A/N: Apologies for being AWOL. A close family bereavement and a major event I was managing knocked me off track. R x **

**CHAPTER 50**

**Wednesday**

McDowell howled in pain as the crop found its mark and the need to recoil from the blow caused him to overbalance, putting strain on his shoulders and causing more pain. Bridget was instantly there. She was slight but the muscles in her arms gave an idea of the upper body strength the woman possessed as she returned him to his feet. Madam appeared in front of her and gently removed the crop from Ana's hand.

"Revenge does not suit you. Let me." She looked over Ana's shoulder. "Attend her," she barked.

Confused feelings raged through her as Christian arrived instantly by Ana's side. He put his hand in hers, squeezing gently. He moved to stand in front of her, managing to combine being a submissive and a concerned husband at the same time. His words and presence were reassurance and the uneasy turmoil inside settled a little.

He looked at her and then she remembered.

"What? I mean… yes?"

"Madame and I have worked out a plan," he whispered.

Ana was aware of Madam's presence behind Christian and she didn't like it. There were things she needed to say and there were things that needed to stop.

"Excuse me, Madame," she said to Sandrine, taking Christian's hand again and leading him from the room. This time she went into the storage room and from the end of their plastic-covered playroom bed, she picked up his discarded jeans.

"Put these on."

Christian seemed a little hurt.

"Don't you like the look of me?"

"Very much," she ran a hand over his hip and thigh. "But this doesn't give you any power."

"I'm not supposed to have any power in Madam's world. I'm male."

"You said she can't control our relationship unless we allow her to. Well I'm not allowing her to. Being dominant over you doesn't work for me. If we have to do this, then I'd like us to work the way we're supposed to. This way, you know what you're doing, I trust what you're doing and…" she swallowed and bowed her head. "What we do is intimate and personal to us." Christian's hand cupped her cheek and she leant into it. "This… show, this… scene isn't a world I want to be part of." She looked into his eyes. "What we do, we do from love. This? Well, sorry to say it, but this is fucked up."

She folded her arms, suddenly feeling cold as a chill ran through her.

Christian pulled her to him and she fitted against him, face pressed against the familiar place on his shoulder and warm strong arms circling around her, securing themselves behind her back.

"Do you want to go home?"

She nodded. "Yes. But you stay," she whispered. "You do what you need to do."

"I don't think I can exact any more painful revenge than whacking him in the balls with a riding crop." He placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away from him a little, face wide with a grin. "That was a good aim." He held her chin and softly kissed her lips. "And I apologise for using the cross without telling you."

She smiled. "Funny how you can miss something like that."

"You want it back in the house?"

Ana wrinkled her nose. "No." She wound her finger over his chest and looked at him from under her eyelashes. "Could we get a new one?"

"Sure." Christian's eyes sparkled.

"One that… I've had a hand in designing?"

Christian's brow furrowed. "Well, you don't need to design them, it's just two pieces of wood."

"I have an idea for how it should look."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "My wife is designing BDSM equipment?"

"Hardly," she laughed. "But I want _you_ to do something."

"OK."

"Find us a new little apartment for it. Something just for us. Our secret place where we can put all this and more importantly, make use of it."

Christian kissed her again. "It would be a pleasure," he murmured against her lips. "I like the word new. Don't stop at the cross, design all new pieces for it. Whatever you want. "

From the other room, there was a strangled yelp from McDowell.

"Madame seems to be enjoying herself," said Christian.

Ana traced the gold chain around his hips. "I think we'll keep this, though. Gold looks good on you. But," she raised her eyes to his, "it's for my eyes only." She reached for his jeans and handed them to him.

He snickered. "And you say you have no idea how to be a dominant. I think you're wrong, Anastasia." He pulled them on and buttoned up the fly leaving the top one undone.

"This is different. I don't want to control or emasculate you, I just want to…" she looked at him and deliberately bit her lip. He yanked open his fly but she shook her head and slowly re-did the buttons, taking pleasure in the bulge that formed. "I'll have that later," she said, circling around him with her finger. "But for now, go and find out why McDowell's got it in for you."

She left him at the door, leaving him with a kiss.

Ana drove home, mulling over in her mind the best way to tackle the accusations against Christian. Her phone trilled. It was David asking if he could come over and see them both.

"Sure, can we make it tomorrow?"

His unexpectedly guarded 'yes' put her on edge, but she over-rode her natural curiosity to ask what was wrong, choosing a quiet night with her husband and family to process and plan the rebuttal to McDowell's ill-advised revelations, rather than dealing with whatever David would bring. Perhaps Keeley had told him of her indiscretion with Christian? Perhaps it was over between them?

Arriving back at the house Ana ran up the stairs to Darcey's bedroom and found that her little girl was still sound asleep. Grace's expression was mulish. She didn't like being kept in the dark and the casual explanation that Christian had stayed to sort out a problem at a warehouse did not wash with Dr Trevelyan, especially with what she'd just read about her son on the news sites. Ana straightened the covers and leaving her exhausted daughter to sleep, she and Grace set off in search of the rest of the family. They were out in the garden, but Phoebe was sat in the conservatory with Kate.

"Here's Mommy," said Kate and Phoebe sprang up. She flew at Ana, latching herself to her like a limpet. Ana hauled her six year old into her arms seeking silent explanation from Kate at the unexpected behaviour from her usually reticent daughter.

"She accidentally saw the _Seattle Times_ homepage," mouthed Kate and Ana heart sank. This was not a discussion she ever wanted to have with her children.

Giving them a quick 'we'll talk in a while,' Kate and Grace left them and Ana sat down on a sofa, pulling Phoebe on to her lap. There would be time for explanations later; but for now, she just needed this little girl to know that despite the battle raging around them, her family was secure and that she was very much loved.


	51. Chapter 51

**CHAPTER 51**

**Thursday**

Luke had gone for a shower and while the children were sat eating their breakfast, Andrea took a first look at the morning's email. It was already full. Melanie Clearwater, GEH's head of Public Relations had been emailing with Christian overnight and Andrea, Luke, Prescott and Taylor had been copied into everything. One eye periodically on her children, she read up on the thread. The email time stamps started 02:XX and 03:XX, meant that Melanie and Christian had been discussing things well into the early hours. By the end of the thread, Andrea had established that he'd had a difficult evening explaining things to his family and that he and Mel had come to an agreement about what he was going to say publicly at a press conference booked for 10am. His family would be with him. The last email in the batch was a private one from Mel saying that she needed to see Andrea urgently first thing. During the course of the email conversation with her CEO, Melanie Clearwater had made the connection between real life and the purported fiction of _White Tower._ It was going to be a difficult day.

Being particularly ruthless, Andrea weeded out the timewasters from both her and Mr Grey's email accounts, forwarding anything to herself that she could easily deal with. He had enough to think about today. Her finger kept hovering over an unread email from her husband to Christian about Amos King. It had been sent a few days ago but had remained unread. Mr Grey had had rather more things to worry about than a background check on King. But she was itching to know what he'd discovered. She could hear Luke singing in the shower, the children were engrossed in their bowls of food and so she clicked on the email and read.

"The disgusting dog…" she muttered as she finished reading the report and marked the email unread again. It was always the ones who wore their family values around their necks like a gold medal who turned out not to have any. Scooping the children down from the table she let them play while she tidied away and made her final preparations to leave for work. She went into their bathroom where Luke was stood by the mirror, shaving. His body was still wet where he'd given himself just a cursory dry off and slung the towel around his hips. Andrea grabbed her toothbrush.

"So I guess you've read what's happening today?" She squeezed toothpaste onto it.

"Yep."

She looked at him. "You could have told me."

"I would've, but it had gone 3am when I found out about the press conference and I know how much you enjoy being woken up at that time in the morning."

Andrea cleaned her teeth and Luke peered at her.

"What I want to know," he said, switching the electric razor off. "Is why you haven't come in here raging about Christian's salacious past? I was expected the truth to shock you a lot more than it apparently has done."

Andrea looked away while she finished cleaning her teeth. She spat out, rinsed her mouth and put her toothbrush back in the rack before she replied.

"I already knew. Although, he doesn't know I know."

Luke turned to her and she recognised him switching into interrogation mode. Her husband was a classic inverted triangle, wide shoulders, narrow hips and the sight of him almost naked was distracting.

"What do you mean, you knew? How much did you know and, more importantly, how do you know?"

"I put two and two together."

He laughed and shook his head. "Oh come on, Andie, you can do better than that." She went to turn away but he caught her arm and stopped her. "As much as it may hurt at the time, the truth is always better than a lie. I think today is going to hurt Christian a lot, but I think he can cope with knowing that there's been a tiny breach somewhere."

Tiny wasn't really the right word.

Luke pulled off his wet towel and slung it onto the laundry basket and she couldn't help but look at what was underneath. _Tiny_ wasn't the right word for that, either. She consulted her internal thesaurus to select the most appropriate adjective to describe the impact and spread of _White Tower_ as it raged like a fever, infecting most of the known universe in the process. One word seemed to rise above the rest to describe it. An epidemic.

Should she tell Luke or wait for David Brannigan to tell Ana and Christian directly? Hopefully that would happen tonight when they were out the other side of whatever roasting the press were going to give them. Yes, it would be better that David told them. They were close friends, it could be done at home and hopefully, if the GEH girls all worked together and kept schtum, only a few people in Grey Publishing would incur the wrath of Christian Grey. She needed to get her husband's mind off looking for breaches in Christian's personal information or he'd be rampaging around like Taurus the bull. Besides, he'd be far better deployed going after that snake, Amos King. He probably would once Christian caught up on his emails. But how to distract her husband…? The clock told her she had twenty minutes before she had to leave for the office so she reached for the definitely not tiny part of him. He eyed her speculatively.

"You've just brushed your teeth."

"I know."

"Distraction tactics?"

"Nope," she said, throwing a clean towel off the rack onto the floor and dropping to her knees. "I'm making sure you owe me one tonight."

**xXXx**

Andrea and the children made their way through the slow morning traffic, first to Emma's school and then her and Charlie on to Gray Plaza. Luke had headed off to the Grey's house to travel in with the family. In the back seat Emma was finishing off the pretty pink pencil creation that she'd started last night, while Charlie was smearing the window with butter-coated fingers because he'd wanted toast before they left. On the morning talk radio show, which Andrea had on quietly in the front half of the car, so as not to disturb the children, the news was full of the arrest of Roger Carter, who had been found close to Eugene in Oregon. Detective Harry Marsh was a hero and the news as the half hour progressed revealed unpleasant details about Carter and his sadistic sexual habits. Also on the news was the arrest of Scott McDermott over the kidnapping of Darcey Grey. Both items of news were stoking the morning's phone-in discussion on the sexual revelations about Christian Grey and the DJ was urging people to call in to express their opinion on him and his equally abhorrent behaviour. It was a usual tactic, Andrea had heard this show many times before. He liked to whip the fury up, sit back and let the callers try, sentence and hang the person under discussion before he handed over to the next presenter at 9am.

But this morning, the public weren't biting. Not in the scores she expected would be lining up to take pot shots at her boss. Sure there was the usual righteous indignation, but on a normal morning it was caller after caller after caller. Today, it wasn't happening and she could sense in the DJs voice that he was pissed that his nice juicy topic on sexual peccadillos wasn't getting them going like normal. And then the guy dropped a bombshell.

"After this break for this morning's weather report with Ashley Fariss, we'll be back with GEH Director Amos King, who tells us that in his opinion Christian Grey needs to resign."

"What? Does he fuck!"

The expletive was out of Andrea's mouth before she remembered herself.

"Mommy you said a bad word." In the rearview mirror Andrea was being glared at by her daughter.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, honey. I'm angry."

Andrea inched the car forward another few feet, wishing the Seattle would stagger its journey to work and also impatient for the damned weather report to finish.

"Fuck!" said Charlie, smacking his hand on the window, making her jump.

Andrea groaned. "Charlie, no. That isn't a word we use."

"You said it."

"Yes, I know, Emma. I'm sorry."

"And we're back and pleased to welcome to the Rick Warzack show, GEH director Amos King." Andrea turned up the volume a little as his familiar, gruff, pompous voice came out of her car speakers thanking Rick for his welcome. If she was undecided about King before, she'd definitely chosen a side now. She hated him.

"Duplicitous bastard," she mumbled below the hearing level of her children.

"You've been at GEH less than two years, Mr King," said Warzack. "Do these revelations about Christian Grey's private life make you wish you hadn't invested so much money in the company?"

"Christian!" said Emma excitedly. "They're talking about Christian!"

"I know, honey. Let Mommy listen."

"Well, Rick, I've been up all night just thinking about that very thing. You know, when Grey took his company public three years ago it naturally opened everything up to scrutiny. Obviously, there were things about Grey himself that should have also been opened up for scrutiny. I'm a man who prides himself on making ethical investments…

"Oh you lying bastard!"

"Mommy!"

"Sorry. _Shit._" she muttered, but not low enough for radar ears in the back seat not to hear.

"Shit!" Charlie smacked the window with each word. "Shit, shit, fuck!"

Andrea slumped against the wheel. "Charlie!"

"I just feel sorry for his wife," continued Amos. "What that poor woman must be going through with all those women in his past…"

"Oh don't start with your _family values_," shouted Andrea with sarcasm above the honk of a horn in the next lane.

"…I've been married for over 25 years…"

"Yes and screwing around for every one of them! She grabbed her phone and called the programme, yanking out her iPad while her car was stationary. She brought up Mr Grey's emails and went into the one about King, reading the information once again to remind herself just what a philanderer King was. As for his ethical investments, there was a hushed-up dalliance with a pharmaceutical company whose drug trials had gone badly wrong ten years ago.

Because of the lack of caller traffic Andrea was straight through and the producer put her on hold so that Rick could bring her into the conversation when King had said his piece. She was about to say _her_ piece and she was seething. How dare he go on the radio and question Christian Grey's family values? How dare he even speak about a man he knew nothing about? A man who she'd worked her ass off every day for well over a decade, because he was worth it. She wasn't going to sit back and let this man give Seattle's listening public a set of lies about Christian Grey.

"Mommy I need to pee."

"Hold on, honey, we're not far from school. Just another block." Andrea eased the car a few feet forward.

Amos King's voice down the line was irritating the hell out of her. And Rick Warzack was a straight down the line wazzock.

"We have Mary Parker on the line. Mary, I believe you work at GEH and you say that Mr King has questions of his own to answer?"

She was hoping Amos King wouldn't know her from her middle and maiden names.

"Good morning Mr Wazzock, yes I do."

"Er… _Warzack_," he corrected.

"Whatever. Yes, Mr King, you seem keen to parade your family values. How many marriages has Mr Grey had?"

"Ah…one."

"And you?"

"I don't see that this is relevant."

"I do Mr King. Just answer the question, please," said Andrea.

"Uh…two," he said quickly.

"Mmm, yes. And you were seeing your present wife behind your first wife's back for several years, isn't that correct? Certainly pictures in the _Dallas Morning News_ in 1984 seem to support that." She looked at the image in the file of information that her husband had provided to Christian.

"I beg your pardon?" The indignation was clear in King's voice.

"Seeing women behind your wife's back is a bit of a theme for you, isn't it Mr King? I understand that at least three of your mistresses have given birth to children that you've not formally acknowledged, but yet are quite happy to support through school."

"Get this woman off! Who are you? Consider yourself fired, missy!"

"You'll have to find me first. But at least I'm not the one who funded the lethal tests of the drug Antracinine. Bet you never thought we'd find that out."

Amos King was speechless.

"Anthracinine?" said Rick Warzack, appalled. "Oh my…"

"Indeed. Toxic stuff. You're a church-going man Mr King. So you know that throwing stones when you're guilty yourself, isn't a good thing. But here are some more reasons not to throw stones at Christian Grey." Something had occurred to her and it made Andrea Sawyer smile. "I don't think that people are calling in this morning for two reasons."

"Really?" said Rick. "Uh…Miss Parker I beg to differ, our phones have been ringing off the hook."

"No they haven't, I got straight through. That never happens. Anyway," she continued. "They're not calling, firstly, because most of the city works for him and secondly, they don't give a shit what he did with consenting women when he was younger."

"Shit!" Piped up Charlie in the back seat. Andrea ignored him.

"If anything, it makes him far more interesting than you'll ever be, Mr King. In fact, I'll go so far as to add a third reason why they're not calling today." She was sticking her neck out here, but something about the spread of _White Tower_ made her believe that it could just be a reality. "I think they support him. I think that far from wanting to condemn him, they're mature enough to see beyond the headlines to the truth. I bet if you asked his supporters to cut out a shiny silver heart from tinfoil and stick it in their windows, that there would be more support for him than you think. You want to bang on about family values, Mr King? I'll give you the family values of the Grace and Carrick Grey, who adopted three children, all of whom have gone on to produce loving, tight-knit families of their own with not a sniff of infidelity within them. They've all been through hell these last three days and you're putting them through hell again for no reason.

"I don't think it's right that you're talking about something you know nothing about." This was it. This is where she hoped that the goddam book leak would work in her and his favour. She equally hoped that Christian Grey wasn't listening because she was about blow the truth of his life wide open and possibly herself out of a job. She took a deep breath. "Because if he's anything like Stephen White, in _White Tower_, then there may be more to this than meets the eye."

"Oh! I've read that! said Ashley, the weather presenter. "Oh my…Yes! Oh my God, yes! Stephen White could be Christian Grey!"

Andrea thumped her fist on her steering wheel and blasted her horn by accident. Announcing it on the radio wasn't supposed to happen! She slowly leant forward until her head touched the steering wheel.

"Kill me now," she muttered and ended the call.


	52. Chapter 52

**CHAPTER 52**

**Thursday**

Ana knelt down in front of Phoebe and smoothed down the collar of her daughter's school shirt. It was unnecessary. As ever, the little girl was as neat as a pin in the uniform of the exclusive Elementary. With the drama of Darcey's kidnapping, Ana would rather have waited and sent them back to school on Monday; but Teddy had important assessments that he couldn't miss and Phoebe just wanted to be back at school She hated to miss out on learning new things.

Ana smoothed the little girl's glossy bobbed hair.

"Do you have everything?" she asked.

Phoebe nodded. Of course she did. Her neatness extended right through into being able to put her things together for school.

"Your lunch?"

The little girl raised the hand holding her purple lunch bag.

"Belinda's going to stay at school with you through today and tomorrow," said Ana. "Then on Monday there'll be a new lady to take you. Belinda's going to there to make sure you're OK. So, if you have any problems, you tell her right away, do you understand?" Phoebe nodded. Of course she did. Her bright as a button daughter took everything on board, even after the accidental shock of yesterday's revelations.

Elliot had left his tablet on the sofa while he got a drink and Phoebe, making a beeline for it, ended up coming face to face with her Daddy's picture and words that she could read but didn't quite understand. It wasn't a conversation Ana had ever wanted to have with one of her children, but Phoebe's clear intelligence made it easier. Before Daddy and she had met, he'd had several girlfriends. That was quite normal, she explained. It was what adults did. Tested each other out until they found a person who they liked enough to make a commitment to. However, Daddy and these women liked to be together in a way that was different to many other couples, and some people found that hard to deal with. But it was not correct to say they were Daddy's slaves and that Daddy was making them do things they didn't want to. Daddy would make sure the newspaper apologised for that. Mommy knew all about it, and she and daddy were just fine.

Ana could see as she explained it, that all Phoebe needed to hear was that reassurance that Mommy and Daddy were just fine. Whatever happened was irrelevant as long as her parents were OK.

Ana leaned forward, placed a kiss on Phoebe's forehead and then stood up, pressing the little girl to her side as Belinda approached.

"Ready to go to school?" Belinda said with a twinkle in her eye. "It's been a very long time since I was at school, so I'm quite nervous. Do you think if we go a little earlier that you could show me around?"

Phoebe replied enthusiastically and Ana smiled at Belinda's neat way of getting in to case the joint beforehand, with her little location specialist in tow.

Christian approached with Teddy and Jason Taylor. Unlike Phoebe, Teddy was not as neatly turned out and his hair made her smile. It was almost a carbon copy of Christian's unruly mane.

"Has Dad explained that Jason will be staying at school with you today?"

Teddy nodded. Christian could have said that he was being accompanied to school by a 6ft lime green rabbit and he would have agreed to it. Their son was not at his best in the early mornings.

"Lunch?" said Christian and there was a pause while Teddy realised that he didn't have it and trooped off to retrieve the missing red lunch bag from the kitchen.

Their goodbyes were suddenly interrupted by a small pyjama-clad limpet who welded herself to Christian's leg. He bent down and hoisted Darcey into his arms. She sat there smugly, hands clasped around his neck, enjoying the fact that her older brother and sister were leaving and she had Daddy all to herself. Alas, not for too much longer, they needed to be making a move into the city. Ana spied Keeley hovering uncomfortably in the living room doorway. Before she left this morning, she and the Detective would need to have words.

"I'll see them to the cars," said Christian, creating the perfect opportunity for it to happen. Ana kissed her school-bound children again and watched as their father shepherded them and their temporary security detail out into the bright morning sunshine.

She turned. "Keeley?" The nervous woman looked up. "Follow me, please."

Ana walked through the house and out onto the verandah. The sun wasn't around this side of the house yet and out of its rays there was still a decided nip in the air, even for May. Ana shivered as the cool air chilled her skin through the thin silk of her shirt. She'd keep this brief and turned to face the arriving young woman.

"Christian told me," she said quickly. The bluntness of it took Keeley by surprise. "Exactly what did you think you were doing with my husband?" Ana folded her arms.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs Grey," she said, head bowed. "I…" The woman stalled for words and shook her head. "I don't know what I was thinking."

"Obviously." Ana rolled her eyes.

"In that moment, he… he was…"

Ana could imagine it. Christian, channeling the sexually-charged side of himself, was impossible for her to resist. However, he was married, they had four children together and that meant that there were certain boundaries that needed to be respected by other people.

"Do you have any idea of the very wrong game you were trying to play?"

"I'm sorry. I'm really am."

"What were you trying to make happen?"

Keeley didn't reply. Her face was a contorting mask of anguish.

"Tell me," Ana pressed. "What were you trying to make happen?"

Keeley looked as if she was in pain and in her left eye a tear appeared. She swallowed.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I… I'm… a little… confused…" She shook her head, obviously uncomfortable. Then Ana remembered the situation that had prompted Christian to bring David into his confidence to train him. Keeley wanted what Christian could offer as a Dominant. And it was something she was finding it hard to articulate to David, because just as Ana herself had been in those early days, the knowledge that unusual things turned you on was not easy to admit to yourself or equally express to other people. Keeley hadn't yet been enlightened about David's new training schedule.

"What does David have to say about your little incident?"

"He doesn't know. We haven't spoken."

Knowing that David was pretty smitten with Keeley, Ana thought this a little odd.

"He hasn't called you?"

"Yes, he's called me. I just haven't answered."

"Then call him, apologise and make sure you tell him what you want."

Keeley looked at Ana with wide, fearful eyes.

"I know what you want, Keeley and I'm serious. Tell him."

Ana saw the confusion but pressed on.

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"He'll reject me."

Ana smiled. "No, he won't."

Keeley went pink and bit her lip, dropping her head to hide her embarrassment. She shook her head slowly.

"I don't think he's going to want what I want."

Ana took a step forward. "How do you know if you won't talk to him about it?"

"Because…" Keeley seemed to slump and give in. "When I did manage to tell him a little about it, he didn't engage with it. He hasn't spoken about it since and I know he hasn't done anything about it."

"Are you sure?"

"Pretty much, yes. He'd have responded by now if he had."

"I think you need to tell him exactly what you want."

"I'd love to, but he'd run a mile from me."

"I don't think he would."

"How can you be so confident about that?"

"Because he loves you."

David's voice made both women turn around and silence descended over the group. Christian arrived to make four.

"Hi," David smiled at Keeley. "I came to find out why you weren't answering my calls."

Keeley moved her mouth to speak but nothing came out. Christian came to stand beside him looking with wry amusement at the speechless Detective.

"I don't think she'll be answering any time soon after you landed her with that." He held out his hand to Ana and she took it, feeling his strong familiar warmth flow into her arm. "We'll leave you two alone for a moment." Christian towed Ana into his office, shut the door and locked it. "We need to leave for the office in ten minutes, but you're cold."

"Yes, it's surprisingly…" Ana stopped as he drew her over to his desk and yanked the silk shirt out of the waistband of her skirt. He quickly unbuttoned it. His hands cupped her breasts, fingertips skimming her prominent nipples through the fabric.

"They're demanding my attention to warm them up," he murmured.

"Can't say I heard them."

"That's because I'm more fluent in Ana than you are," he smirked and increased the pressure on the little circles he was making that were drawing her ever more erect and prompting an ache deep inside her. She looked at him. His eyes were underscored by large bags that gave witness to his lack of sleep last night. Not only had he spent the evening having a very emotionally wrought conversation with his family, he hadn't gone to sleep until hours later. She'd slept fitfully too, and whenever she awoke he was sitting in bed beside her, tapping out yet another email to Melanie Clearwater, discussing what he was going to say later on this morning. She knew that his need to see and touch and be in her body was a response to anxieties that only periodically resurfaced these days. Skin, touch and love were his coping mechanism. It was what he needed to convince himself that they were OK and having opened her shirt, off came her skirt and panties as he bent her over his desk, pressing her gently to the cool wood. He worked her deftly to her peak with his fingers before joining her in their climax. There was no greedy taking without giving, there was no hurried desperation, but it was only afterwards as he dropped a little heavily into his chair that she realised just how physically and emotionally exhausted her husband was. Christian may look as sartorially immaculate as ever, but she could clearly see that this week had taken it out of him.

"Let's go to Aspen for the weekend," she said pushing his legs wide and kneeling between them. He took his face in his hands and kissed her.

"That's a brilliant idea," he said through a sigh. He closed his eyes and his face relaxed. "I could really use some sleep now," he admitted.

"Me too," she said, placing her cheek on his abdomen and feeling the rise and fall of his breathing and the little gurgles in his stomach. He wrapped his arms around her and they became like statues for a moment. There was a knock on the door.

"Sir?" Luke's voice came through it.

"Thanks Luke, we'll be there in a minute." Christian held Ana a little tighter before releasing her. They stood up and inspected one another's clothing. He looked as gorgeous as ever, hiding his exhaustion behind a small smile.

"We were supposed to be opening Gray Plaza today," he noted.

"I know."

"Instead, I'm…" he looked at her with a frown. "What am I doing?"

"Saying that consensual sex between two people is nobody else's damn business."

"And why am I not simply putting out a statement, or even better, just ignoring it?"

"For a thousand different reasons the most important of which is that you won't allow anyone to make you feel ashamed of your choices."

His right eyebrow rose into a perfect arch. "Apart from my mother."

"Telling your mother the true nature of your relationship with Elena was never going to be easy."

"No." He took a deep breath. "I've never seen anyone transform into a spitting hellcat right before my eyes." He looked at her with a benign smile. "Of course, you were right."

"It was never about what you two did together. For me, just as it was for your Mom, it was your age that made her lose it." He nodded in acknowledgement. "Fifteen is just way too young, Christian. That's just five years older than Teddy and he is still such a little boy."

He nodded a silent acknowledgement.

"But she's going to be right there beside you today, as will your Dad, Elliott, Mia, Kate, Ethan and me."

"Thank you." He kissed her and then took her hand. "Let's go and face the press."


	53. Chapter 53

**CHAPTER 53**

**Thursday**

Andrea scurried through the concourse of Grey Plaza, hoping none of her co-workers would realise that it was her in today's on-air escapade. Charlie was pressed to her shoulder still shouting the new additions to his vocabulary.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh," she said as they made it through the doors. But the cavernous atrium and its superb echo were all the better to enjoy the sound of the new words. Head down and trying not to die of embarrassment, Andrea headed for the security barrier.

"Andrea?"

The unfamiliar voice made her look up and even Charlie looked interested as they came face to face with a mane of tightly spiraled titian hair. She thought she recognised the woman and then thought again. It couldn't be her, surely? But the likeness was uncanny. This woman was a thinner, sadder version of a once Teflon-coated harpy who had rummaged through the lives of Seattle's CEOs determined to see what she could uncover. Andrea's lack of recognition was dealt with.

"You probably don't remember me," she said. "It's been a few years. Four, to be exact. I've been… out of town, shall we say."

Andrea squinted and pulled out the name.

"Marnie Moore?"

The woman smiled. "Yes. You remember?"

Andrea stood up straighter and shifted the now quiet Charlie to her hip. "How could we forget? What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for the press conference."

Andrea could not hide her alarm. "Oh, I…"

Marnie held up her hand. "It's OK, I'm just doing my job. Reporting the facts."

"For whom?" Surely Christian Grey had made damn sure that no paper of worth would be employing this woman.

"_The Billings Gazette_."

Ah, he had. Andrea resisted the temptation to extol how the mighty had fallen. But still, the nerve of the woman to show up here, today of all days. Hadn't she done enough already? More to the point, what was Melanie Clearwater doing giving press credentials to a woman who had only recently been released from jail?

"I don't think Mr Grey will appreciate you being here." Andrea gave the more polite version of what she suspected Christian would say. The words 'fuck' and 'out' figuring in his sentence.

"I think he will," she said, with breathtaking audacity. "I was there the summer it started. They were at it in my parents' back yard."

Charlie wriggled and she put him down. "What? What do you mean in your back yard?" Andrea held his hand tightly to stop him making a run for it.

"Writing a book about it and calling her Marlene instead of Elena is a pretty dumb move, though."

Andrea blinked. "Wait, what? You've read _White Tower?_ In Billings?"

"Honey, everyone with a vagina has read _White Tower_."

"Ve-gina!" shouted Charlie. "Ve-gina. Fuck! Ve-gina."

Andrea looked daggers at Marnie Moore. "Thanks for that."

"You're welcome. So, the book?"

"What about it?"

"As it's travelling through the female population at a million miles an hour, I take it he doesn't know it's out?"

Andrea sighed. "No, he doesn't. We still have that particular level of hell to descend to." She looked up, suddenly struck by something. "Elena? As in…"

"Yep…"

Andrea's face tried to turn itself inside out with revulsion. "No!"

"Indeed."

"That's. Eww!" She shook her head in disbelief. "Marlene is Elena Lincoln?"

"Yes."

"They were having…" she mouthed the word 'sex', "in your back yard?"

"No, but she was ordering him around, I saw it. Getting him to get stuff for her, sneaking off into corners. Little touches." Marnie went pink. "I was quite sweet on him and used to follow him around like a little puppy."

Andrea stuck her chin out. "I take it he turned you down, then?"

"He turned everyone down. Now we know why."

Andrea closed the gap between them. Perhaps this was the chance they needed to tell him about the book without having to tell him about the book. He didn't like Marnie anyway, so nobody in GEH had to 'fess up to this particular fuck up.

"So, are you going to mention the book in the press conference?"

"I may do, I may not. It depends if I get the opportunity to speak."

Andrea realised that Christian Grey would not be giving Marnie Moore the opportunity to ask a question if he was choosing the reporters to speak to. _The Seattle Times_ had already been barred from attending.

"I need Melanie Clearwater to give me the opportunity to speak. Can I get that, Andrea?"

"I'll see what I can do. But finding out about the book's leak at the press conference is not a nice way…" Andrea stared as a bunch of her co-workers dashed through the main doors of Grey Plaza with armfuls of boxes of foil. Sharon from purchasing ran up to her.

"We love you!" she said, pushing a box of the stuff to Andrea. "We're covering the whole damn building in silver hearts before he gets here!"

Andrea looked at her watch. "In 45 minutes?"

Sharon beamed with delight. "It's Christian Grey. We do the fucking impossible for him every day. A couple of thousand silver hearts isn't a big ask. That roll's for level 30, by the way," she said pushing her way through the security barriers backwards. "Get cutting. Mr Grey's girls are on a roll." She waved a box. "Oh a roll. Geddit?"

Andrea groaned. "This place has gone fucking nuts," she muttered.

"So that was you on the Rick Warzack show?"

"Yes."

"Good stuff." Marnie looked contrite. "Despite the control freakery, Christian's a nice guy and I never meant for anyone to get hurt at the Devil's Kitchen. That ended badly."

"You don't say."

"Get me one question to him, Andrea. Please?"

Andrea shook her head. "It's not my call, it's Mel's. But I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"Now, if you're serious about being in the press conference then I'd go hide. If Mr Grey catches you here he'll probably drop-kick you off the roof."

"I could cut out some of those silver hearts?"

Just then more women ran through the door clutching boxes of foil.

"I guess you could make yourself useful, yes."

"Then, I'll see you later," said Marnie, taking a box of foil.

Andrea guided Charlie through security and up to where the crèche was on the eighth floor. She checked her son in as if she was in a dream. The revelation about who exactly Marlene was both intrigued and repulsed her and she wondered if Grace Trevelyan-Grey knew? Andrea rode up to floor thirty and arrived to find Olivia exultant at her snappy handling of Amos King and equally thrilled at the arrival of a roll of foil which she set about with scissors and a heart template. The Grey family arrived. Grace Trevelyan-Grey had a face as dark and angry as an approaching storm and there was no doubt in Andrea's mind that his mother knew about Elena Lincoln and she was not happy about it.

The clocked ticked its way through to half past nine as the assembled members of the Grey family sat in tense silence in Christian's office. Andrea and Olivia kept them supplied with coffee and a stack of croissants for Elliot, but even that failed to keep them at ease. Especially Grace, who seemed to be coiled like a snake ready to strike. She came out to Andrea and Olivia and with the tight-lipped expression on her face, Andrea guessed what she said before she opened her mouth. And because of that, she'd already decided to take advice from her boss before she parted with the information.

"I lost her address after she moved to Vancouver. Do you have any contact details for Elena Lincoln?

"I'm sorry," said Andrea, "I…"

"Yes, I do," said Olivia, bringing up the contact database. Andrea hurriedly cleared her throat to attract Olivia's attention, but it didn't work. The eager woman wrote it down and handed it to Dr Trevelyan who received it with a smile that was unnerving on a woman who had access to a hospital pharmacy. Andrea glared across to the other desk.

"What?" said Olivia, wholly unaware of what she'd done.

"I'll leave you to explain that to Mr Grey."

Olivia raised her hand toward the open office door. "I gave an address to his mother. I hardly think she's going to be using it for industrial espionage."

"True, but…"

"But what."

Andrea sat back. "Just tell him."

"I really don't think he's going to be interested."

"I really think he will."

"Why?"

Andrea squirmed. "Just… Nevermind." I'm going down to Tom's office. Try not to give anyone else's contact details out while I'm away."

"I don't get what the big deal is."

"Let's just say that Dr Trevelyan and Elena Lincoln are not best of friends right now. So just duck when you tell him."

Olivia glared at Andrea's retreating back and carried on cutting out silver hearts out of the sheet of foil.

She picked up a perplexed observer in the form of Mia Kavanagh who didn't go back into the office after she walked her mother to the elevator. Dr Trevelyan had decided to go down to the restaurant while they waited for Christian and Ana.

"What are you doing?" asked Mia.

"Cutting hearts out. It's a show of support for Mr Grey."

"That's nice. I get the gray hearts image, Christian told me what it's about. A little weird, to say the least, but why do this?"

"You obviously didn't hear the radio this morning," said Olivia. "Andrea spoke passionately in his defence."

"Good for her," said Mia as Kate Grey came to stand next to her. "He started this business from scratch. With money from…oh." She went quiet.

"That was close," said Kate. "Don't let's have a repeat of last night." Both women sucked air through their teeth. "We don't want to be scraping her off Christian's office ceiling as well. At least Elena's moved to Vancouver and your Mom doesn't know where she lives these days."

"Oh…"

Both Mia and Kate stared at Olivia.

"You didn't, said Mia.

Olivia closed her eyes. "I did."

"Oh crap," said Kate.

"Dad! Elliot!"

Elliot was there in an instant. "What?"

"Mom's got Elena's address," said Mia.

"Shit! How?"

"I gave it to her," said Olivia. I didn't realise. I'm sorry."

"Where is she?" said Elliot.

"She's gone down to the restaurant," said Kate.

They ran to the elevator. Mia smacked the call button.

"It's on its way up," said Elliot. "I guess it's unlikely to be Mom having a change of heart." He looked to Olivia. "Call security, get them to seal the doors. Don't let her out!"

Olivia did as she was told and the ping of the elevator revealed Christian and Ana who were quickly bundled back in the elevator with the others. Just then, Andrea came back from Tom Clark's office catching the complement of Grey's as the doors slid shut.

"If my mother arrives back," shouted Christian, wedging his foot in the door. "You have our permission to sit on her. Don't let her leave the building!" He pulled his foot free and the elevator started on its descent.

At her desk, Olivia was sadly contemplating her existence.

"Well, that all went a bit Scooby Doo," said Andrea, dropping back into her chair. "It must be Thursday, I never could get the hang of Thursdays." She checked her watch. "Twenty five minutes to go. Are you coming down?"

"I suppose it will put me closer to the door when he ejects my ass."

"Think positive. They might corner her before she manages to escape," said Andrea.

"You make her sound like a wild animal."

"If your fifteen year old son had been introduced to BDSM by your mother's best friend, wouldn't you be a wild animal?"

Olivia's eyes bugged. "Elena's not… She's not Marlene, is she?"

Andrea thought for a moment. Olivia would find out sooner or later. "Yes, she is. White Tower isn't just a series of uncanny coincidences, Olivia. It really happened. Apart from a few badly-disguised name changes, it's the true story of Christian Grey."

Olivia stopped for a moment and then stood up. She scooped up the silver hearts and a roll of tape. "All the more reason to put these up, then. Want to help me?"

"Sure."

The two women went to the window and taking a heart at a time placed one in each pane of glass around Mr Grey's office. Catching movement, Andrea smiled as she saw another office worker in an adjacent building also placing a silver heart in her window. Then, she noticed another and another, and…"

"Andrea! They're everywhere! Look!"

Andrea ran over and Olivia pointed. On the visible panes of glass in office blocks across the city and as far as they could see, the morning sun was reflecting back thousands of silver hearts at them as they stood in Christian Grey's office. Andrea gasped and as she spoke the emotion made her voice catch.

"I finally did something right today."


	54. Chapter 54

**CHAPTER 54**

**Thursday**

When Andrea arrived down in the huge atrium it was packed. Not only were the press filing into the room, but workers from GEH, Grey Construction and Grey Publishing were also congregating. There wouldn't be space for them in the press briefing room that Melanie had set up. Above her, the vast glass fronts of the three office blocks were reflecting the morning sun, throwing out silver beams of light as pane after pane displayed a silver foil heart. It brought a lump to her throat. Had Christian Grey noticed them? Did he know what they were for? Susannah McDowell approached her.

"I came to say well done," she said. "Taking down King and expressing public support for Christian Grey was a brave thing to do."

"I don't think so," said Andrea. "King's an asshole and as for Mr Grey, I've worked for him for well over ten years and I've yet to find a flaw. Uh, no," she added. "Correction. His taste in board shorts a few summers ago. That was hideous," she shuddered

Susannah came closer. "So this book, _'White Tower'_? Is this the same one that's been circulating?"

"You haven't read it?" Andrea was surprised.

"I spend my evenings reading contracts and reports. I don't have the time to read for pleasure. But, I was intrigued by the weather presenter's reaction. She linked the character to Christian?" Susannah's countenance turned serious. "I'm aware that he's been writing about his experience; but I was told, by Ana herself, that it wouldn't be out for some time because she needed to do more work on it. It was too honest, apparently. Your comment leads me to think that it's been released and they don't know. Andrea, did you…"

"No! It was _not_ me!" she hissed.

"So it's out, then?"

Under the force of Susannah's stare the world seemed to cease turning.

"Yes," Andrea admitted and Susannah's eyes closed as her face displayed pain.

"Oh God. I'd better tell them," said Susannah, glancing at her watch "There isn't much time. Certainly not enough to allow them to calm down before this thing starts." the lawyer cast her eyes to the heavens seeking help, noticing the hearts glittering on every window. "Oh my…"

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

"Silver hearts." She was stunned. "Like you asked them to."

"Gray hearts. And it's not just us, Susannah. It's across the city."

Susannah looked at Andrea, her eyes wide.

"Across the city?"

"When you get back to your office look out the window. There is so much support for him." Andrea started. "That's it!"

"What?"

"That's how we tell him. Well, we don't tell him we just…" She ran towards the conference room.

"Andrea?" Susannah called, but to no avail.

Andrea was on a mission.

**xXXx**

She found the Grey family clustered around Grace trying to block her escape on every side.

"Mom," said Mia. "Can we fight one battle at a time, please, without you deciding to invade Canada to flush Elena Lincoln out? The press conference is about to start. Christian needs to get in there and you need to be right behind him. Preferably not with a face that looks like you're going to murder someone."

"I am not going to murder anyone," said Grace, placing her hand on her daughter's arm. The family relaxed and Christian took a step towards the press room.

"Right, let's get…"

"Doesn't mean that I won't bitch slap her around Seattle."

"Mom!" said Christian, "that's not helpful." Behind Grace, Ana was biting back a smile.

"Mr Grey?" Andrea intervened.

"Is it important, Andrea? I'm a little busy right now."

"Very. But it'll just take a moment. Mrs Grey, could I borrow you too, please?"

Ana and Christian followed her out to the middle of the atrium.

"Turn around," she said.

Christian peered at her. "Why?"

"Because you won't see them if you don't."

With faces reflecting their view that Andrea had probably lost it and they should humour her, the couple turned around. Andrea went to stand in front of them.

"Mr Grey, I just want to tell you that whatever happens during the press conference, this is how the people who work in this building feel about you. Look up."

Ana and Christian looked up at the bank of windows.

"Silver hearts?" asked Ana looking back to Andrea for clarification.

"Gray hearts. Like the women's necklaces. It's an expression of support for him."

Christian continued to look up. He was silent and unresponsive. Ana took hold of his hand but addressed her comments to Andrea.

"What do you mean, whatever happens? Christian's just making a statement and taking some questions."

"Yes, I know, but…" she thought quickly. "You don't know what those questions will be. We just want you to know that whatever they ask, you'll have our full support."

What Andrea was expecting and what transpired were two different things. Instead of gratitude, her boss's face grew darker and he turned to her with a closed down look that she hadn't seen in a long time.

"Your full support? Sorry to rain on your parade, Andrea, but I don't need it. You have no idea what any of this is truly about and if you did, then… " He stopped abruptly, tugged Ana away and stalked off towards the press room.

Andrea watched him go, joy leaking from her like air from a punctured balloon.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr Grey," she murmured, well out of earshot, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. "We know more about you than you think."


	55. Chapter 55

**A/N: Apologies for the typos in this. I have written my backside off to get it posted before I have to go out. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 55**

**Thursday**

"Good morning," said Christian, as flanked by his wife and family he took his place at the clear acrylic lectern etched with the logo of GEH. There was a muttered reply from the assembled journalists. Andrea found a spot next to Melanie Clearwater in which to secrete herself and looked around to see if Marnie Moore had made it into the room. She had and she was seated behind a particularly tall man. Luke coming in caused a momentary disruption, but he spied his wife and made his way over.

"I hear you were on the radio this morning?" he whispered.

"Mmhmm," she replied.

"Care to explain?"

"Not right now," she said, noticing Christian aiming an angry look in their direction.

"First of all," said Christian, looking as immaculate as he ever did. "My wife and I would like to extend our sincere thanks and appreciation to the Seattle Police Department for the safe return of our daughter. She's as irrepressible as ever and we're very grateful for that." A wry quirk of his eyebrow conveyed much to parents of similarly lively children in the assembled group.

"However, during the event, certain personal information was released that I would like the opportunity to clarify."

Flash bulbs went off as photographers snapped the Grey family united around Christian. Standing to the side, Andrea noted that all GEH's senior managers were there, bar one. Amos King was unsurprisingly absent.

"I'm married to a Publisher," said Christian, "so, you don't need to tell me that sex sells newspapers as well as books. What also sells newspapers are murder and scandal. If you can find a story with all three in one then you're onto a winner."

The door opened again and David Brannigan slipped through looking for and finding Andrea. He came to stand beside her.

"Have you seen Hannah this morning?" he whispered.

She shook her head and inclined it in the direction of Christian, who was giving David an icy look. But David ignored him and texted a message on his phone.

"I would like to make three points, after which I'll take questions. I'm making this statement in person because of the severity of some of the accusations made against me. I could have dismissed them as ludicrous and issued a press release. But, Faye Silvestri had a husband and children. Ola Marjec was the aunt of a close friend's daughter. I don't find their deaths ludicrous. So, firstly, I would like to correct the notion that because I once knew Roger Carter, who is currently a person of interest to the Seattle Police Department, that I had a hand in the deaths of both Mrs Silvestri and Ms Marjec. No, I did not." Camera flashes lit up the room but Christian held his nerve and his eye contact with the journalists. "I have not been in contact with, or seen Roger Carter for over fifteen years.

"Secondly, it has said that I abused the women that I was pictured with. No," he said with emphasis. "I did not."

"Finally, I have been accused of hiding my relationships with these women and as such, mislead the public about my integrity. I understand the fascination with things that fall outside the boundaries of what society determines as 'normal.' So, it's only on that basis that I am clarifying that all my previous relationships were conducted in a safe, sane and consensual manner. More than that I feel no need to comment." Christian looked up as Melanie Clearwater came to stand by him. "I'll take a few questions."

The room erupted in a cacophony of shouts, but Melanie had decided who got to ask Christian Grey a question. Whether they received an answer would be another matter. By her side David Brannigan received a text message that he read.

"Hmm," he mused.

"Problem?" asked Andrea as the _Los Angeles Times_ were given the first question. The reporter, who looked barely out of High School, asked Christian Grey if his wife was a former submissive.

Andrea gasped.

"I don't believe the fucker asked that," muttered Luke.

The room went silent and Andrea looked from Christian to Ana and back again before the tension was broken by the sound of Christian giving a brief, incredulous laugh.

"No. Next question."

"_The Washington Post_," said Melanie, prompting a willowy blonde-haired woman to rise to her feet.

"Mr Grey, in light of her husband's arrest for abducting your daughter, will Susannah McDermott remain at GEH? Amos King has gone on record as saying that you should fire her. Also, please comment on the speculation that you and she are in a relationship."

Christian Grey stared at the woman. "That's two questions. Pick the one you want an answer to."

Attention turned to the Post's journalist who was clearly sweating from it. Andrea could see it was a battle for the woman to pick the sensible question over the headline-grabbing gossip one."

"Ana's standing right there," she seethed. "How fucking disrespectful!"

"Where's Susannah?" asked David.

Andrea shook her head. "She didn't come in."

Focus returned to the journalist who had finally picked her question. "Will Susannah McDermott be staying at GEH?"

"Good choice," muttered Luke.

"No," said Christian.

_"What?" _said Andrea, her eyes on stalks. "I just spoke to her! She said nothing."

"Mrs McDermott offered her resignation this morning and I've accepted it."

"Are you and she in a relationship?"

Christian ignored her.

"_The Wall Street Journal_," shouted Melanie above the clamour for him to answer the question, but it quietened as Ana Grey came to stand by Christian. He moved aside for her and she took the microphone, looking directly at the _Washington Post_ journalist.

"No, he isn't," she said. "Some people find it difficult to understand why my husband would employ someone with whom he'd previously been in a relationship with. That's probably because they don't understand how my husband works. The day that I met him, one of the first things he told me was how he goes about choosing his senior staff. He chooses the best and Susannah McDermott is one of the country's most respected contract lawyers. GEH employs nearly one hundred thousand people on five continents, it needs good people at the top to ensure its continued success."

"Mrs Grey do you have an issue with your husband's past?" the Post journalist tried again.

Ana pursed her lips. "I have an issue with the fact that you have an issue with it. Now, I believe it's the turn of the Wall Street Journal."

She stepped back from the microphone, but she stayed by him as the _Wall Street Journal_ asked a sensible question about the impact of these personal revelations on GEH's share price. Andrea admired them as Ana and Christian stood resolutely together as he worked his way through the final couple of questions. _USA Today_ got him to open up about how the revelations had made him feel. He didn't give much away, but Ana by his side seemed to give him the confidence to share a little.

"Obviously, I'd have preferred to be standing here today welcoming you to the opening of Grey Plaza and telling you about the fantastic design and construction work that's gone in to this truly magnificent building which brings the Grey family companies together under one roof. Also, we want to provide affordable office space to those businesses that are just starting out. That was us once and my brother and I are keen to encourage entrepreneurship in the city. As for yesterday's revelations, my past is my past. It is what it is. I can't go back and change it. It's my hope that you'll all forget about it and go cover a real story," he smiled.

"Last question, from _The Billings Gazette_, said Melanie.

"But you can't forget about it, can you Christian?" said Marnie Moore, rising to her feet. "Or you wouldn't have spent time and effort developing relationships where you had complete control. Your life is quite a story. An abused little boy rescued from a crack whore mother. Growing up never sure of his worth. Driven by the desire to succeed in business and to control those around him to try and assuage the demons inside. I'd suggest you write a book about it but I think Blake Tyne got there first. Have you read _White Tower?_ I have. Andrea has and I bet that most people in this room have. You wrote it Christian, didn't you? It's your story."

There were several gasps from around the room and half hidden behind her husband, Andrea Sawyer grasped his hand for security. At the lectern, Christian Grey looked at a spot in front of him and reached for his wife's hand.

**xXXx**

The blood pounded in Ana's head. She knew Christian was holding her hand, but right now it was numb. She was numb! How the fuck had this happened? Andrea had read it? How had Andrea gotten hold of it? She'd expressly told Hannah to delete it. It must have been Hannah! Where the hell was Hannah this morning? She hadn't even had the decency to call in sick. She could feel every eyeball staring at them, waiting for their reaction. What reaction could they give? How the hell were they going to get through this with any sort of dignity? She could feel Christian's grip on her hand tightening as the anger within him increased. Then a woman at the back slowly rose to her feet, holding up her tablet computer.

"A friend sent it to me yesterday," she said, in a soft British accent. "I was up all night reading it, I couldn't put it down. If it really is your story, then I'm so sorry you went through that, but it's one of the most incredible books I've ever read. Did you write it, Mr Grey?"

Christian looked at Ana with eyes that she couldn't fathom and then turned his attention to the woman at the back.

"Could I ask who you are, please?" he said in a voice that betrayed no emotion.

"Karen Turner. I know none of us are supposed to be here, but your sister-in-law got me in. I used to work with her when she was on the paper. I'm from the _Seattle Times_."

Beside her she saw Christian swallow hard and it was so quiet that you could have heard a feather come to rest on the carpet.

"Yes, I wrote it," he admitted. "Yes, it's mostly what happened. But I'm not good at writing."

"Well, I studied English at Oxford, I think you're a brilliant writer," said Karen. "And more to the point I can't wait to read more."

"Oh God, me too," said Marnie, turning to Christian. "Will you please put us out of our misery and tell us how the fuck it ends?"

Christian lifted Ana's hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"She's how it ends."

"Then for the love of God write it!" said his Mom. "I want to expunge the memory of Marlene from my brain!"

Christian and Ana spun round to face an indignant Grace Trevelyan-Grey.

"What?" said Christian, almost breathless. "You've read it?"

"Of course I've read it. I don't sit around reading Barbara Taylor-Bradford, you know. Mia sent it to me."

Ana looked at Mia, who was silently going pale.

"So, all the stuff that you sat and told us last night," said Elliot. "You wrote that up as a story and Mom's read it?"

"I would appear so," said Christian in a slightly strangled voice.

"Oh that's bad on so many levels."

"Tell me about it," said Christian. "How the fuck did we get here?" he turned to his Mom. "Why didn't you say anything last night?"

"Because I didn't think it was you. You never told me that your burns had affected you that badly. I'm so sorry, Christian."

"Mr Grey?" said Karen Turner, who was now stood behind him.

He turned round to her. "Yes?"

"Perhaps we can make amends for our dickhead photo editor splatting your private life all over our website. How about an exclusive interview with America's hottest new writing talent?"

Marnie Moore came over. "It's everywhere, Christian. Take a look at your atrium and then go up to your office and take a look at the city. It's covered in silver hearts. For you."

Andrea broke out from where she was standing and scrambled over.

"There's one for every person who read and loved your book," she said through tears as she held out David's phone to Ana. "He found Hannah. She's at the hospital. She tried to kill herself."


	56. Chapter 56

**CHAPTER 56**

**Thursday**

Ana left hand in hand with her husband, the family and senior staff following close behind. In the room, the assembled press were in uproar as they processed the news about the statement Christian had made and the unexpected turn of events precipitated by the _Billings Gazette._ It was rare for the Montana-based title to find itself thrust in the national spotlight, but Marnie Moore was coping admirably with it. However, Ana couldn't dwell on that right now. Her focus was that whatever had happened, an unreleased book should not result in the loss of someone's life. Yes she was angry about it and she would be asking for a full explanation, but there was no way that Hannah should have tried to take her own life over it. She needed to get to the hospital to reassure her PA of that. Christian's phone rang with the distinctive tone reserved for certain close people. He answered it and they stopped walking.

"Taylor?"

Christian listened and he pulled her closer. His eyes closed as she saw a flash of pain cross his face.

"What is it?" she asked. "Is it Hannah? Are we too late?"

"Thanks," he said with a sigh, "I'll tell Ana. Just take him home." He ended the call and looked at her. "It never rains but it pours."

"What?"

"Ted's been in a fight."

Ana's head dropped onto Christian's shoulder. "Is this national 'Roast Ana and Christian Grey' month?

"It feels like it," he said, running his hand down her back.

Ana looked up. "They're sending him home?"

"Yes."

"I should go to him. But Hannah… and this book. I can't be in three places at once."

They looked at each other, Ana's brain working out what best to do.

"OK, I'll go home," she continued. "But I'll call Hannah's parents and make an arrangement to stop by the hospital later this afternoon. But I really need to…"

Christian seemed to be there before her. "Let me find out what happened with the book. It is mine, after all."

Ana winced. "It doesn't technically belong to Grey Publishing. You didn't sign your damn contract!"

"Then I'm definitely the right one to be asking the questions." Christian kissed her quickly. "Unsigned contracts, Mrs Grey? That will never do," he winked. " I'll be home as soon as I can."

"But we need to talk about this. Christian. Your past life is all over the city and you didn't know. I didn't know. And your Mom's read it!"

"I know," he said, pulling a pained face. "And the implications of that are making my brain want to run away and hide. But Ted comes first. We should also check on Phoebe."

They parted. Ana heading for the exit and Christian heading to his office. With Kennedy holding the door open for her, Ana slid into the car and settled in for the unexpected ride home. She took out her phone and called her office. Danielle picked up and Ana asked for her PA's parent's details. It wasn't an easy conversation as Ana tried and failed to keep the annoyance out of her voice. If Hannah was the source, then she'd have passed it to Danielle first. It felt good to say that Christian would be dropping by to ask a few questions. He was very good at keeping his emotions in check. Ana, on the other hand, had all the calm of a lioness whose pride were under attack.

**xXXx**

Christian and Andrea didn't speak in the elevator. His mind was blank as he stared into the corner of the polished steel surface that reflected the pair of them into infinity. Thoughts flittered around the edge of his consciousness like butterflies, but none of them found their way in. There was much to think about and much to deal with, but right now he wanted a little silence to collect his thoughts.

"Would you like me to cancel your meetings for the rest of the day?"

Andrea's request didn't immediately register and he took a little time to get around to replying, only doing so as the elevator slowed to a halt at the thirtieth floor and the doors slid open.

"Yes, please," he said and walked straight to his office. The sight of silver hearts stuck all over the windows pulled him up short.

"What the? Andrea!" He strode forward and tore one of them down, going to pull the next one off when a glint in a window opposite made him stop and stare.

"There are hearts are all over the city." Andrea came to stand beside him and pointed from building to building.

Christian swallowed, fighting back the feeling that he was going to vomit. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth calming himself. "They've all read the book?"

"I guess."

"And why would they do this? How would they know to do this?"

"I gave them the idea. On the radio."

He turned to her. "You told the entire city to do this?"

"No. I just… I called in to the show that Amos King went on. I knew that it had gone viral and I wanted King to know that if people knew the truth that they would support you."

"You've read the book?"

"Yes, sir."

"And you never told me?" Christian could feel his defences going up.

"I tried. But I could never quite say it."

He looked back out at the city. "And this is what?" he swept his hand around at the hearts. "An expression of pity?" He turned squarely to her. "Let me be quite clear, Mrs Sawyer. I don't want or need pity from you or anyone else!"

"It's not pit-"

"Get out!"

Andrea Sawyer remained where she stood.

"Get out!" he repeated.

"No."

His wave of rage broke over her, but still she did not move.

"It isn't about pity," she said, enunciating each word calmly. "Have _you_ read the book?" her chin went up.

"I fucking lived it!"

"And you know that I share some of your early experiences." Andrea was keeping ice cool under his glare. "We all deal with what happens to us, differently. I got defensive and shut men out for the longest time, until I met Luke. You took a different route, but we both ended up in the same place, right? Happily married with children."

"Andrea, what the fuck has this to do with—"

"It's to do with choices."

Christian frowned. "I don't follow."

"The choices you made, the choices the women who," she struggled with the next word. "…subbed for you made. I put two and two together by the way with the NDA's. After I read about the first one in the book, I realised that you've asked me for others over the years. Fifteen, yes?"

"Yes," he replied quietly.

"You found what worked for you, you found a way to make it happen and you carried it out with women who also wanted what you did. I think the hearts are a recognition that they're OK with people making choices. It's not about pity at all."

"Really?" Christian arched an eyebrow.

"Sure."

"So it's support for my choice to flog women? Really, Andrea? Do you live in the real world? Don't you find it odd that there isn't a protest out there demanding my head on a spike for crimes against women?"

In front of him his Executive Assistant turned deliciously pink, and went to his desk. She picked up his tablet and brought something up on the screen.

"We all read chapter 24." She handed the device to him and words he'd written months ago now were displayed on the screen. "I don't think any woman wants to live in a world where this is a crime."

He read what he'd written, letting the words create pictures in his head and swapping the woman in the text for the image of Ana. Every time he'd written the pleasures they were taken straight from Ana. Andrea's voice cut into the scene.

"There isn't a demonstration outside, because straight, lesbian, bisexual, feminist or no, every woman wants a partner who can bring her orgasm like that." Andrea frowned. "And how I managed to get that out and not die of embarrassment, I have no idea."

There was a moment of silence between the two of them which Christian seized the opportunity to ruin.

"Does Luke make you come like that?"

"Oh!" Andrea gasped and leapt back as if she'd been scalded.

He grinned. "Does he, Andrea?"

She wrinkled her nose, turned and walked away from him. He followed her.

"Does he?"

She turned back. "Stop it! That's… private."

"That's a no then," he grinned, enjoying his assistant's mortification. Teasing Andrea was like teasing Ana when he first knew her. When his knowledge and her inexperience made seeing her pink, embarrassed cheeks just as sweet an experience as giving her another set of pink cheeks. Having her pink at both ends was a delight. Mrs Sawyer would have to be similarly pink at both ends to experience the heights of chapter 24 and he knew that Andrea, because of her childhood, didn't approve of spanking. But here she was, marveling at the orgasm he could provide from it. Perhaps she might be receptive, if it was done properly?

"I could tell Luke how to do it?" he suggested.

Andrea gasped again. "No!" Her eyes were as wide as Ferris wheels.

He left the suggestion with her and shrugged his nonchalance. "Fair enough."

He went to the elevator, getting into the one that brought Olivia back to their floor.

"I'm going down to Grey Publishing," he told her. "I'll be back later."

He smiled as the car travelled down to the right floor, taking in the shy looks from female members of staff who got in with him. They said nothing but it amused him to see their reactions now that they knew the extent of their boss's sexual abilities.

At Grey Publishing the doors slid open to reveal Andrea.

"Woah!" Christian jumped. "How the fuck did you get here?"

"Nevermind." She grabbed his arm and pulled him into a corner. "I just wanted to say," she whispered, "that you can tell him. But for the love of God, don't let on to him that I asked you to." She stared at him. "Do I need you to sign an NDA? I have one on my computer."

He sniggered. But before he had time to think of a witty retort, Andrea strode off, red Louboutin soles contrasting against the gray carpet while he set off for Grey Publishing.


	57. Chapter 57

**CHAPTER 57**

**Thursday**

Christian walked in on bedlam as around him the workforce of Grey Publishing were either running across the admin floor, typing furiously or had their ears welded to their phones. It was a clear minute before anyone noticed he was there. David put his phone down and stood up, having it ring again only seconds later. He ignored it and made his way over to Christian.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"You," said David. "Our communications are under serious strain, here. Everybody wants a copy of White Tower. Every bookseller in the country is on the phone. I had Barnes and Noble. Even that guy from Amazon."

"Which guy? William? Tom? Jonathan?"

"No," said David. "The main man. Bezos."

"Jeff?" said Christian, genuinely stunned. "Jeff Bezos is on the phone?"

"Yes, to Simran." David pointed to the woman working across from him.

"W-why?" Christian gave an uncharacteristic stutter.

"The usual reason that booksellers call us. Trying to find out how soon he can have copies of your book."

"What, he does that personally?"

"No, but he's doing this one personally. I think he'd trying to break the land speed record for book production. He pretty much wants it in his distribution centers next week."

Christian looked at Simran. She looked a little under pressure – being on the phone to Bezos could do that to a person. But he wasn't an expert in how long it took to produce a book, so he'd leave it to her to deal with it. Amazon wanted his book so badly that Jeff was on the phone? Barnes and Noble, too?

"Shit," said Christian quietly to himself, appreciating for the first time how big a deal this was.

"You're a publishing phenomenon," said David.

"But who's going to buy it if they all have free copies?" This was a fair question if those hearts were anything to go by.

"There are things we can do. You could write some additional chapters."

Christian looked at him. Did David have any idea of how difficult it was to get even 500 words out on some days, let alone three whole chapters? Perhaps his dislike of this suggestion showed a little too much on his face and David suggested an alternative.

"Or we could run a promotion. Buy book one and get book 2 half price."

"I haven't finished writing book 2 yet."

Danielle slammed her phone down. "Waterstones are taking _White Tower!_" she grinned. Catching sight of Christian, went instantly pale.

"That was…"

"I know who Waterstones are," said Christian. "We have a house in England." He let every trace of humour disappear from his face. "If I may have a word, please?" He gestured out of the office.

He led the way out into the hallway and stopped out of earshot of everyone. He turned to face Danielle. She was inspecting the joins in the carpet tiles.

"Would you like to tell me what happened to result in Amazon, Barnes and Noble and Waterstones being on the phone?"

Danielle lifted her face briefly and peeked out from under her fringe before returning to hiding under it.

"It's quite usual for us to swap manuscripts when they come in. The four of us; Simran, Molly, David and I are responsible for reading each one and feeding the most promising ones through to An… Mrs Grey," she corrected. "Yours made such an impression on Hannah that I couldn't resist asking for it." She gave a heartfelt sigh. "No, I pretty much demanded it."

"And she gave it to you willingly?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I pressured her for it."

"And then what did you do?"

"Realised how good it was and sent it to Molly and Simran."

"And from there?"

Danielle palmed the air trying to calm herself. "I just want to say that I'm truly sorry. We don't make a habit of sharing things beyond the four of us. This was an exception."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "Do you think I'm going to be content with an apology, when it was an exception that publicly exposed me for something I wrote under a pseudonym, for the very reason that I didn't want to be publicly exposed?"

"No sir."

"I don't care who's on the phone trying to buy copies of the book. I don't care if you sell one copy or it outsells the Bible. I'd be happier if you hadn't just landed me, my wife and my family with a level of exposure that I don't suspect my ten year old is having an easy time coping with. There are reasons why people write under pseudonyms and I have reason more than most."

"I'm sorry," Danielle whispered, wiping a tears away.

"You don't work for me so I can't fire your ass, but I'm damn sure my wife will."

"Then I'll resign," said Danielle.

"Good, and you'll do it immediately," said Christian talking out his phone. "Did all three of you pass the manuscript on to other people?"

Danielle nodded.

"Then Molly and Simran can join you – and you can tell them the news yourself. I will expect your resignation letters on _my _desk in twenty minutes and then security will escort the three of you from the building."

Danielle didn't move, looking as if her world had collapsed.

"Get to it!" snapped Christian.


	58. Chapter 58

**CHAPTER 58**

**Friday**

Ana blinked awake in Aspen's morning light. She rolled her head to the side and found Christian's pillow empty apart from a yellow sticky note. She picked it up. 'Fishing,' it said.

"I'm not surprised," she murmured, looking beyond to his clock and discovering that it was barely 6am. On the side was his phone. He'd switched it off. It had rung far too many times yesterday and it was staying off for the weekend. The silence was welcome relief and she savored it, stretching out under the quilt and enjoying the feeling of not having to get up for work. They were planning to be here this weekend, anyhow, but when she arrived back from seeing Hannah at the hospital, she found that their bags packed and waiting in the hallway. He'd had enough, things with Teddy weren't great and Christian just needed to get away.

The flight out had been tense. The school had told her what had happened, but she'd tried to encourage Teddy to talk about it, to explain it in his own words. But he'd clammed up and had refused to say little more than yes or no to anyone. When Christian had arrived back he said he'd try, as well, but Teddy could barely look at him. When she arrived home she had the suspicion that Teddy hadn't been the only one who'd been crying.

She'd been glad when yesterday finally ended, although she'd left it three editors and a PA down. She'd have been firing them anyway for such a gross breach of trust and Christian had done her a favour by encouraging them to resign instead. Hannah, although weak from where they had pumped her stomach, had expressed how sorry she was. But she knew that she too had to leave.

Ana had heard who'd been on the phone and that was a whole other thing to get her head around. The company had been steadily growing each year, investing in a roster of great writers making increasingly steady impact on the book sales charts. They hadn't had that runaway bestseller, yet, and Ana was finding it hard to cope with the news that her company could be catapulted into the major league by her husband's story. It was already circulating and everyone now knew that it was a barely fictionalized account of his life, so all the work she'd done to anonymize it was wasted. How to proceed was a conversation she and Christian needed to have. But not yet. Her husband was a bruised man and she could hardly blame him for going upriver for a few hours. He needed even more time to think than she did.

Her immediate concern was Ted and the fight he'd gotten into at school. Some other boys in his class had been saying things about Christian and when Ted couldn't find the words to come back at them with, he'd spoken to them through his fists. That was the thing that has upset Christian the most. Having echoes of his own youth coming out in his son was something he'd worked very hard to prevent. But it had come out anyway, despite everything he'd done to ensure that his children didn't have the start in life that he'd had. When they'd gotten into bed last night, although he'd held her she could tell his mind was elsewhere. Knowing him as well as she did she'd tried to make sure that he wasn't slipping back into the dark place, but by then even he was exhausted and just wanted to sleep.

She went to grab Christian's pillows to prop her up a little, but a movement stopped her. Ted was standing in the doorway, tousle haired and looking like he hadn't slept very well. His pajama pants were half way up his calves from his recent growth spurt.

"Hey," she said, still a little croaky from sleep. "You're up early." She tapped the bed beside her, but Ted didn't move.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's gone fishing."

This seemed to be the answer he was hoping for and he quickly climbed onto the bed. Ted was a little old to be cuddly in the way that Darcey was, but he surprised her by snuggling up, wriggling under her arm and resting his head against her. Her arm held him close, feeling his warm body beneath the soft flannel fabric.

"Did you sleep OK?"

The feeling of a shaking head gave her the answer she could see under his eyes.

"Any reason why?"

"Thinking," he said in his usual economic way. Ted would never use more words than were strictly necessary.

Ana tried again with last night's conversation. "About what?"

"School."

"Your classes?"

"Not really."

Ana made a guess. "The people in your classes?"

He nodded. "I don't want to go back."

Ana closed her eyes and tried not to give any indication that this grieved her. Instead she tried to keep it positive.

"But your last report was fabulous, you're doing so well."

"They don't like me." Ana smoothed his messy copper hair. "They're mean to me."

Up until yesterday she'd have put money on Ted being happy at school. This must be about the revelations about Christian.

She didn't think she'd get a reply, but she asked anyway.

"Why are they mean to you?"

Ted was silent. She expected it. It was unfair to expect a ten year old who occupied a simple world of construction and logic, to understand the complicated politics of adult sexual relationships. And then he surprised her.

"They called him a pervert. I looked it up. They said he does mean things to women. And to you."

Ana ran her hand down his arm and pulled him a little closer to her. Evidence was the only way she could play this. She swallowed hard, pushing the emotion down.

"Who knows your Daddy better, you, or these boys who are being mean to you?"

"Me," came the tiny reply.

"And have you ever seen Daddy being mean to me?"

Ted shook his head.

"Have you ever seen Daddy being mean to other people?"

"No."

"Is he mean to you?"

"No. But he shouts at me if I don't clean up."

"That's just being a parent. That's nothing that any other ten year old wouldn't get."

"He doesn't shout at Darcey."

"That's because Darcey ignores everyone. We'd have more success getting a fence post to clean up. We're still finding out what works with your sister."

"Ice cream."

Ana chuckled. Her little daughter could be wound around your finger for a bowl of it, but Ana didn't want to use food as a reward.

She ruffled Ted's hair. "I know that what they said about him wasn't nice, but…"

"Is it true?" he said cutting her off and turning around to face her.

"Is what true? That's he's a…"

"He ties women up and fucks them. That's what Jake's Dad told him.

They said it was on the TV and the websites and everything."

The blood pounded loudly in Ana's ears as she tried not to cry out that it had happened again. Some stupid-assed adult had stolen a young boy's innocence! There was no way a ten year old should be told things like that by his father and worse, that he goes blindly repeating them at school. In that moment she wanted to simultaneously lash out at the world and hide her children away from it. Ted was looking at her with red eyes full of worry and questions. She had to find some way to explain things without doing any more damage. Ana cupped the side of his face.

"Before your Daddy and I met, he had several girlfriends. It's quite usual to date several people before you meet the one that you want to marry. Back then, Daddy dated women who were OK with him having rules and telling them what to do and when to do it. Then, when they didn't, he would…"

"Shout at them?"

"Amongst other things, yes. But it was their choice. He wasn't being mean to them. They both agreed what the rules of the game were and then they played it."

"So he only pretended to be mean to them?"

"In a way, yes."

"But he didn't hurt them?"

"A little," she said honestly. "But only as part of the game."

"Did he play the game with you?"

She smiled. "He tried to, but I didn't like the rules."

"So you did a Darcey and ignored them?"

"Pretty much," she laughed, releasing the tension.

A smile appeared on Ted's face. "And you were the one he married?"

"Yes."

"But he liked rules and you didn't? How did that work?"

"Because I showed him a different game. One that doesn't have any rules at all. And it turns out that he's amazing at this one. He wins at it every day."

Ted's smile returned to his face. "What's it called? Can I play?"

Ana leant forward and kissed Ted on the forehead. "Sure you can. You can play it every time you choose to believe the truth over lies. You can play it every time you stand by someone who's under fire from people who think they know the truth, but don't. And you can play this game when you spend time with someone who's hurting."

Ted looked contrite. "Is Daddy hurting?"

"Yes, he is," she whispered. "And just like you, he needs somebody to help him through this."

Ted flung himself into Ana's arms and wrapped his own tightly around her.

"I want to go and see him," he said, voice thickening with emotion.

Ana kissed her son's head. "OK, but I think we both have to get dressed, first."

Ted scrambled away and off the bed, heading for the door, he stopped when he reached it.

"You didn't tell me the name of the game."

She smiled. "It's called love, Ted."

He went pink.

"What?"

Ted wrinkled his nose. "Sounds smushy."

"Oh it is!" she said, overacting. "Horribly and wonderfully smushy. But it can also be the toughest thing on the planet. However it comes out, though, people needs lots of it and right now your Daddy could do with some."

"And he'd going to need some breakfast," said Ted and scooted away.

Washed, dressed and loaded down with an enormous quantity of food that their housekeeper had rustled up, Ana drove to the bend in the river where she knew Christian would be. The black truck was parked by the side of the road and lifting the hamper out of the car, she and Ted made their way down the bank to the fast flowing waters of Hunter Creek. They had to walk a little way upstream to get to the right spot, but finally they found him, thigh deep in water and almost motionless. Ana placed a hand on Ted's shoulder and they waited patiently until Christian looked up.

"We brought breakfast," she said, raising the basket.

Christian smiled and waded out of the water, meeting them both on the bank. He looked weary.

"Ted thought you might be hungry."

Her husband's tired smile grew wider as he reached for Ted. "Thank you. I am and I couldn't think of a more welcome sight."

Ted surprised her again by hugging Christian, but she could see it was what they both needed. She put down the hamper and kissed his cheek.

"See you later," she whispered.

Christian, still holding Ted with one arm, reached out to her with the other.

"You're going?"

"Yes. You and Ted need to talk," she whispered, grabbing hold of his hand and kissing the palm.

"Stay. At least for breakfast," he urged. "We can't eat all this."

Ana had to admit that their new housekeeper's last employer must have been Jesus, because she always seemed to catering for 5000.

"OK," she agreed, taking the rug from the top.

"Shall we build a fire?" said Christian, Ted looked up excitedly and Ana knew that everything would be alright in the end. The hero look for his father was back in their son's eyes. The two of them scampered off to collect wood, while Ana unpacked and wished she could throw every single copy of _White Tower_ onto the flames and watch them reduce to ash.


	59. Chapter 59

**CHAPTER 59**

**Saturday**

The elevator doors slid open and as Melanie Clearwater got out Andrea looked up.

"I heard you were in," said Mel. "Haven't seen you work a Saturday for years."

"Trying to catch up," said Andrea, continuing to type her email. "It's not been the easiest week."

"You got in without being questioned?"

Andrea stopped typing. "Oh, they tried, but I didn't answer. Nobody should be talking about it. We just need to get on with what we're here to do."

Mel chewed her lip and leaned up against the high front of Andrea's desk. "But it's not that easy, is it?"

Andrea resumed her typing. "Not easy to do what?"

"Not talk about it. Like it's not easy to try and get through the main entrance when it seems like half the world's press is camped outside, waiting for someone to crack and spill the beans."

"What beans?" snapped Andrea. "There shouldn't be any beans. I am the best-placed person to have had knowledge of Mr Grey's private life back then and I assure you, he guarded it well. I knew nothing about any of it. So how Carlene in accounts or Shannon in contracts could _possibly_ know how he conducted his private life back in 2008, I have no idea!"

"They've all read the book."

"Then, they think they know what happened. They don't really know what happened - and neither do the press. Have you seen the newspaper front pages over the last two days? The salacious detail they went into on Friday following the news conference. And now that Roger Carter's been arrested, linking his sick depravity to what consenting adults did in the privacy of Mr Grey's own home? They're pretty much saying that any man who restrains a woman during sex is likely to end up a murderer. Why should we give these people any more ammunition to fling at him? They're making up enough of their own!"

"Andrea, you really need to calm down. I'm the head of PR here, of course I've seen the papers."

"Calm down? Calm down! Mel, have you any idea how this is going to impact his family? His phone's off for fuck's sake. His phone is _never_ off. The family have gone to Aspen and even I can't call him and I'm on his side."

Mel took a moment for Andrea to compose herself.

"I appreciate how exposed he's going to fee…"

"I really don't think you do," Andrea snipped, resumed her frantic typing. "And we're disbanding this fucking stupid _Christian-insanity_ thing that we set up. We need to all grow up and get on with our lives."

Mel rolled her eyes. "Andie, it's a bit of fun. The man's fucking gorgeous. You can't see him and not wish that for a couple of nanoseconds that he'd drop his guard and take you over the photocopier."

"Oh please don't bring that up."

"You were part of all that, Andrea and you were the one that got the closest."

"I was giving birth! It wasn't like I had a choice!"

"I know you didn't," Mel said more kindly. "But cut us some slack. Stop acting like we need to take a vow of chastity to work here."

Andrea didn't say anything.

Mel continued. "Being around Christian is like looking at any other gorgeous male actor or model. You look at them and they transport you away from your dreary life and your saggy, balding, flatulent husband who wouldn't know what proper foreplay was if it bit him on the balls. Just for one tiny minute you fantasize how it would be if it were him in your bed, or him who couldn't resist you when you got in from work. We find that same desire in other people, we share it, we acknowledge it, we bond over it and then we get on with our lives. We don't go home with Christian Grey. We go home to the guy dozing on the sofa by eight thirty and who's too tired to engage in anything more than a half-assed fuck. And don't tell me that you haven't been there, Andrea, 'cause you wrote that thing we give to new employees."

"I know, but…"

"Here me out," said Mel. "OK, so our hot CEO has been unmasked – pardon the pun – as being better than average in bed… or anywhere else he wants to have sex. I know from the email exchange that I had with Christian that the events in the book happened a long time ago. He doesn't live that way, anymore. Certainly, I can't imagine Ana Grey as anyone's submissive. And I know that right now it's all just come out and everything's a little too much…"

"A little?" Andrea sassed.

"OK, everyone's talking about it and his previous lifestyle is being linked to what a serial killer did and it's a whole fucking mess. Is that enough melodrama for you?"

"It's no laughing matter."

"I'm not laughing. Believe me, Andrea, good can come from this."

Andrea scoffed. "Ha! I can't see how."

Mel quirked up an eyebrow. "Yes you can. Think, Andrea."

"Please, don't say some horrific cable channel sex secrets thing."

Mel shook her head. "Nope. Although, hell, I'd watch, that. Haha!"

Andrea pursed her lips.

Mel dropped her amusement. "Think philanthropy. Where do a lot of his personal donations go?"

Andrea thought for a moment and then pointed at Mel excitedly. "Coping Together!"

"That's right! And do you know how much he's given since it was founded?"

"I haven't a clue."

"I checked this morning. He has personally donated over forty million dollars and his money funds projects in one hundred and nine locations across the country. Everyone's focusing on the sex and the salaciousness of a young man seduced and dominated by an older woman, but nobody's asking what he did about the bad times that contributed to the mental turmoil he found himself in, in the first place. I've spent the morning going through the accounts of Coping Together and I cross-checked them with GEH's. The very first month that he made any profit here, he started his donations to the charity and he's kept going ever since. Five hundred dollars, a thousand, two thousand, ten thousand, one hundred thousand, a million, two million. He's never missed a month. I know he's not going to see it until he switches his phone back on, but I emailed him about this and told him that I need to get that story out."

"He'll say no."

"He might, he might not, but either way, I have a plan."

"So what are going to do?" Andrea's eyes issued a challenge.

Mel bounced up and down, she was too excited to keep it in. "There's a project in Billings. Guess who's in the mood to redeem herself…"

"Marnie Moore?"

"Yep. She's going to write a piece on the fabulous work being done by Coping Together in Billings and how it's funded by Christian Grey. And, oh look, there are similar projects quietly going on all over the country."

Andrea shook her head. "The public will see it as a cynical move to try and rehabilitate his image and if he knows you put Moore up to it."

"I didn't. That's the best bit, this came from her. Besides, why is publicity for good things bad news? As for rehabilitating his image, I don't think he needs it. Sex is sex and people just need to deal with it. We've already seen that most people in Seattle are OK with it. Your hearts certainly got noticed. However, I think Washington are probably concerned at how quickly women can share books," she laughed. "I've also suggested to him that if the book does come out he can give all the money to Coping Together."

"I'm sure he's thought of that already. And what of the unfortunate reality of Roger Carter's similar sexual peccadillos turning to murder? How are you going to spin that one?"

"We're not. We're just going to leave it. People are intelligent enough to work it out for themselves. Just because you drive a car doesn't mean you're going to kill people with it. Just because you a tie a woman up with rope doesn't mean you're going to strangle her with it."

"A cheery thought."

"And on that note I'll leave you to it." Mel went to the elevator and looking back at the uncertain face of Andrea. "Trust me Andrea. This will work out fine."

"For him, perhaps. But what about his family? This will have changed their view of him. And his children? Imagine discovering something like that about your father."

"There's work to be done, sure, but Coping Together is the real story here, not how he used to have sex."

"But the media don't want to print good stories, Mel. And you can bet your bottom dollar they're not going to send it out without mentioning this incident."

"Exclusive. Great new facility for women and children having a tough time funded by man who had a tough time as a child and came through it. Wow. News indeed." The sarcasm dripped off her tongue.

"Mel…"

"He came through it, Andrea, focus on that," she said as the door slid shut.

Walking back to her phone buzzed. She read the message and laughed. It was a reporter in Tampa asking if they could have a comment from Christian Grey for their feature on the new Coping Together facility in the city. The reporter didn't appreciate that it was funded by him, or that the network of support centers was so extensive.

"See Andrea," she muttered to herself. "Somebody somewhere likes good news."


	60. Chapter 60

**CHAPTER 60**

**Saturday**

Keeley's phone beeped with a new message. It was David and for the fourth time in a row she ignored it, turning the phone face down. Ever since he'd dropped the 'L' bomb onto their conversation on Thursday morning, things had been awkward between them. She'd barely spoken to him. Managing to say 'how can you love me when you barely know me?' before dashing out of the Grey's house, getting into her car and heading back into the city. Since then she'd communicated with him by text. Today she couldn't even manage that.

By anyone's standards David Brannigan was lovely. It was her that was the problem. Since unwisely opening up to him, confiding her deepest desires to him (why had she decided so much vodka was a good thing?), he hadn't spoken about it and she didn't really know where to go with it, either. It wasn't easy to open the conversation with; 'do you remember that night when I told you that I'd really love to feel slightly dominated…?' Especially now, when one of his closest friends had been outed as a Dominant (albeit several years ago), and another man had been hauled in and charged with the deaths of four women within the BDSM community. She could see why it might not hold any appeal to David. But it was still a side of her that she wanted to explore.

Not that he wasn't giving her anything just as he was. When she'd met him he was smart, but now it was at a whole new level. Physically, he was gorgeous, but he must have upped his workout schedule or something, because when she'd seen him last Thursday he looked even more toned. He radiated more confidence and that, to her, was a very attractive quality.

It had been the thing with Christian that had derailed things with David. It hadn't even been a thing, there was nothing to it. She'd just recognised in him what it was she wanted and found herself unconsciously responding to it. But she didn't want Christian Grey – he was old, almost forty for God's sake, she just wanted that dominant essence that he radiated. Could she bottle it? It had been a subtle, more commanding side of him that almost had her on the pavement in submission right then. It was that assertive quality that she wanted – but in David. But how on earth could she tell him what she wanted without coming over as embarrassed, herself? She was a Detective. A highly educated, professional woman. Why on earth would she want a man to pull her hair, decide what she wore and determine how and where they had sex?

"Ugh," said Sparshott, throwing down a thick, dusty file and dropping heavily into his chair. "Interviewing sucks. Why the fuck does any woman want a louse like Carter to be in control of them?"

Ryan had, in one sentence, summed up her problem. Most people didn't understand her desire to give away her control. Of course she didn't want to give it to someone like Carter; just to David, in the hope he'd take it, care for it and love her because she wanted their relationship to exist in a way that many people wouldn't understand. She didn't want David to be brutal with her, just firm. She wanted him to insist that she was home from work at 7.00pm at the latest and that working weekends was out because he had better things for her to do than spend Saturday afternoon catching up on reports.

Her desk phone rang. She grabbed it and wedged in between her shoulder and her ear.

"Fox," she said in an irritated manner.

The officer on the front desk shocked her by saying that David was waiting for her in Interview Room 2. She put down the phone and unsteadily got to her feet. Why? Why would he be here?

"What's the matter?" asked Ryan.

"I don't know. David's in one of the interview rooms."

Sparshott grunted. "Did they finally arrest him for being an overly good-looking bastard?"

"I don't know," she shrugged, grabbing her jacket off the back of her chair, sending it spinning in circles. "Guess I'll find out.

Approaching interview room 2 she noted the red 'in use' sign had already been pushed across, so she knocked and went in, to find David seated on the bench on the other side of the desk. He stood up.

"Hi," she said, a little shyly. She closed the door.

"Hi," he replied. He was wearing that near-fatal combination of jeans, white t-shirt and a leather jacket that just made her want him all the more. "You've been ignoring me," he continued, "and I guessed that this was the best way that I could get you to listen to me." He gestured to the bench. "Come and sit down."

She walked over to him and as she reached him he took her hand, brought it to his lips and kissed the back of it.

"I don't really want to say many words, but I want to show you something." He put one leg over the bench and sat down. "Sit astride it with your back to me."

Keeley looked at him, blinking once or twice, not quite comprehending."

"Do it now," he said and everything south of her navel woke up. Here? In an interview room? Hesitantly she did what he said, her breathing already elevated and her lips already open, taking shallow quicker breaths.

She did it, lifting her leg over the bench and sitting down between his knees.

"It feels like ages since we last spoke and I've gotten the impression that there's something you want to say but you can't say it. So, I thought that maybe this would help. The touch of his hands on her head brought the rest of her alive as he ran his fingers through her hair, drawing it together, securing it into a ponytail with a band and pulling on it just enough to make her give a little moan of bliss.

"Shhh," he soothed, placing his lips close to her ear. "You don't want the whole station hearing you." She could hear him smile and it caused her to smile too and moan again, a little louder this time as he pulled her hair again. "Is that good?" he whispered.

"Mmhmm… she sighed in bliss, relaxing her posture and trying to lounge back on him.

"Oh no," he chuckled, holding her upright by the shoulders. "Keep your back nice and straight. In fact, lean forward a little and put your hands on my knees."

She did and David pulled her shirt out from her pants all the way round and reaching up, unclipped her bra and pushed it up.

"Oh my God!" she said rather breathlessly, suddenly realising that the camera in here might be active. She searched for the tell-tale red light but it was mercifully black.

"It's OK," he said, caressing her breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt. "Nobody is going to see anything."

Her nipples were already like bullets when he stopped teasing them through the silk and slipped his hands underneath. he cupped her and continue working them. He kissed the skin behind her neck sending little blissful shivers down her spine.

"I've missed you," he whispered.

"I've missed you too," she replied, dropping her head back and giving her concentration over to the actions of his fingers and the gently building sensation in the core of her.

He spread his legs wider and taking his hands away pulled her back into to 'V' of him, the cool silk touching her nipples sensitized her even more. Scooping her up behind each knee, he closed his legs and placed her thighs over his legs, opening out again and spreading her wide. She gasped and he shuffled back a little, pulling her back onto him.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Um… honestly?" she gasped. "A little nervous that someone might walk in."

He stroked her thighs. "Well then, let's put you at ease. Put your head back," he said softly. "Relax."

"Easier said than…" his hands converged on her crotch. "unngghh!"

His fingers pressed through the fabric of her pants and her body instinctively pushed back at each pulse, gently starting to build. The sensation of silk brushing her nipples sensitized her even more. This was glorious and if he carried on she'd come, although she would have preferred to be on his boat.

And then he shuffled back a little more and with deft work both of his hands slid inside her pants, carrying on the rhythm through the lace of her panties. He was firm and he was quick, leaving her bleating out little cries of 'oh my, oh my, oh my, as her orgasm ripped through her. She relaxed back onto him, coming down and breathing heavily, laughing that all her anxiety had magically disappeared. He removed his hands and wrapped them around her, holding her to him as she closed her eyes to enjoy the feeling of bliss. It was a while before he spoke.

"Six o'clock," he whispered. "My place. On. The. Dot. I have a dinner reservation for seven thirty and I have something I want to do with you before we get there."

"What?"

"Something exciting."

She tried to turn around, only managing halfway. Her efforts were rewarded with a kiss on her nose.

"Don't be late. I'll need you for the best part of an hour."

"I'll only have half an hour to get ready?"

"You'll have plenty of time to get ready."

"I'll have to stop by my place and get some things."

He shook his head. "No you won't. I have everything you're going to need."

She raised her eyebrows. "Even lip gloss?"

"Yes, even lip gloss."

She frowned. "How?"

He was the one to grin this time. "All will be revealed."

She was suddenly struck by an horrific notion. "You're not going to be putting make-up on me, are you?"

He remained tight-lipped as he sat her up and clipped her bra back in place.

"David?" she pressed. "Please tell me that you're not going to put make-up on me."

A small smile played on his lips. "You wouldn't like that?"

"No."

"Because..?"

"You're a guy."

"And you think you'll end up looking like a kid's coloring book?"

"Um… yeah."

He said nothing and held out his hand. "Let's straighten you up."

He tucked her shirt back into her pants, making it take far longer than it needed to and drawing giggles from her as he traced the line of her panties across her stomach.

"I meant what I said on Thursday," his voice was croaky.

"David…I."

"I know the kind of thing that you want," he said, cutting her off. "And that's why I need so much earlier for dinner, tonight. I want to give it a go."

There was a few beats of silence between them.

"What do you mean?" she final asked.

He traced the edge of her hair down her cheek and scooped it behind her ear. "Being your Dominant," he said gently. "That's what you want, yes?"

She swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

He smiled and kissed her gently.

"To do that we need to sort out some details between ourselves. What we want from it and what we do and don't like doing. In short, there's some paperwork. OK?"

"OK."

"And one of my things is that I do want to choose what you wear and I do want to do your make-up." He held her attention, entirely. "Because I'm good at it." He ran his fingers along her lips. "These have power over me and they deserve more than just a quick slick of gloss. You don't make the most of yourself and I want you to." He smiled. "But I'm getting ahead of myself, here. We'll discuss it tonight."

He kissed her again and Keeley promised to be at Escala on the nail of six o'clock. She went back to the department with every fibre of her alert to what the night would bring. The afternoon had been pretty unexpected. She collected a coffee and sat down. Ryan looked up.

"What did he want?"

"Oh, nothing in particular," she batted away his comment with a flick of her hand. "Just to give me something."

"Sparshott narrowed his eyes. "A good time if your cheeks are anything to go by."

Keeley Fox turned to ice. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's made a booty call in Interview Room 2. Hell, I've done it enough times," he laughed.

"Well, you're a swine."

"And you have nipples that look like they've been worked on."

Keeley pulled her jacket across her chest.

"Hey, chill," he raised his hands in defence. "At least you didn't have to listen to Carter telling you how he fixed fucking jump leads to one of his victims' nipples." He shuddered and then looked like he was going to hurl. "Gimme plain old sex any day."

"No jump leads," muttered Keeley compiling her mental list of things she wouldn't do and wondering what Mr Max Factor had in his make-up kit.


	61. Chapter 61

**CHAPTER 61**

**Saturday**

Christian was sat on the bench next to Ted, contemplating life, the universe and the imminent need to find additional help for the gardener. He'd watched Eli Phillips struggle one too many times this morning. Not that Phillips would let on that he was no longer up to being the sole custodian of the Aspen house's grounds. Eli was a proud man with high standards who'd been with Mr Grey since he first bought the property. But arthritis cared diddly squat for a person's standards.

"Want to go and play?" Christian asked, but Ted shook his head. They were both watching Phoebe and Darcey on the swings. Darcey was fruitlessly trying to get her swing to go higher than Ana's push would let her, while Ana was now gently swinging William, seemingly mesmerized by the gentle to and fro of her son. Phoebe was working her swing with gusto, a fact that was incensing her younger sister as she achieved an increasing arc.

"There'll be tears," Christian sighed seeing the scowl deepen on his younger daughter's face. She didn't like Phoebe getting the better of her. He turned to Ted. "So, what would you like to do today?" he asked.

Ted looked up at him. Most of the tension from yesterday had dissipated, but things would never be the same again. Part of Ted's childhood had been stolen, something that he understood far better than most fathers.

"Can we go to the Lego store?"

"Sure," said Christian, enthusiastically seizing on Ted's favourite pastime. "Anything in particular you're after?"

Ted had a hint of mischief in his eyes at which Christian instantly smiled. His son was not given to conspiracy, but there was definitely some here now.

"Boy's stuff," he said dropping his voice – although there was no chance that Darcey and Phoebe could hear from this distance. "The Millennium Falcon."

Christian had looked at it before. It had age 16+ on the box. But after the difficult weekend and the prospect of spending many future hours with his son as they worked on it together, he would disregard Lego's advisory. It would be worth it. Besides, one of them was over 16. But, there was one potential fly in the father-and-son ointment.

"Phoebe's going to want to help." His daughter was as mad about the film as her brother was.

Ted's lips pursed as he gave the matter serious thought. When he did that he looked so much like Ana.

"OK," he pronounced finally. "But not Darcey. You can buy her an Ewok toy."

"And William? If I'm getting a gift for you, Phoebe and Darcey, it's only fair that William gets something too."

"Another Ewok?"

"He's a too young for that." In the distance a large man bending down to tend a flower border caught his eye. He didn't look as if he was a park official, but nevertheless, he was carefully snipping the edge of the border to neaten it. A woman stood beside him. There was a large hold-all at her feet and even at this distance he could see that she was bored. A boy of about the same age as Phoebe sprinted off towards the free swing beside her and jumped onto it, leaning back and working his legs frantically to get it going.

"Duplo?"

"Hmm?" said Christian, realizing that he'd zoned out. He focused on Ted again. There was something about this group of people that was piquing his interest. The boy was now trying to catch up to Phoebe, working his swing for all it was worth. "Yes, Duplo would be good."

He returned his attention to the couple, the woman now walking into the children's play area and keeping an eye on the boy whom he suspected to be her son. She was slight with long hair that had last seen a trip to the salon many moons ago. It was two tone. Most of it was blonde, stopping just above her ears, while the top quarter was dark where the roots had grown out. She was wearing leggings and worn out sneakers, while her hands were thrust into the pockets of a zipped-up green parka. She removed one and scratched her nose. Around the back of her hand wound a snake tattoo. It was warm for May, but this woman gave all the impression of being wrapped up against the cold, even in the sun. Christian was quite pleasantly comfortable in shirt sleeves. The boy on the swing was thinly dressed in shorts, t-shirt and graying gym shoes that really belonged in the trash. For such a well-heeled place as Aspen this was unexpected. The man remained on his knees, neatly trimming the verge with a pair of small shears. Occasionally, the woman looked over to him and then at her watch.

"Come on, Kyle," she urged. "We'll miss the bus. Connor," she called to the boy. "Two more minutes now."

"OK," replied the boy, finally achieving parity with Phoebe. It amused Christian to see his daughter respond to the boy by working even harder.

"That's my girl," he muttered.

The woman glanced towards Christian and glanced away with a frown. She looked back, now obviously checking it was him. She moved towards him and this was Christian's cue to make sure that whatever she said was not in earshot of his son.

"Ted, go tell Mom that we're going to the Lego store. And ask where she'd like to go for lunch."

His son got off the bench and ambled off in the direction of Ana as the woman approached him. He steeled himself.

"You know, we really shouldn't have to go all the way to Denver to get help," she said without so much as a by-your-leave. "Of all the places you have these things, Aspen should have one." She was annoyed with him. "I don't fucking know anyone in Denver."

Christian turned to her, a little taken aback. Obviously this had translated to 'I'm stupid' on his face, because she explained herself.

"The Coping Together Centers?"

"Oh."

"Aspen needs one. And you have a place here, so why don't we have one?"

"They're set up where there's a need," he said, not a little defensively.

"Well, Mr Big Shot, there's a need here. For me and Connor. But no, there isn't, 'cause according to the city, Aspen ain't got a drug problem, so we have to go all the way to fucking Denver and there's been an eight week wait. I've done all the tough shit myself. And Aspen _does_ have a drug problem, for your information," she added with a point for emphasis. "It's amongst _your_ kind. "I see it, but nobody wants me to tell people that I see it."

"Amongst my kind?"

"Yeah, rich people. With holes in their noses so big I can thread my belt through."

Cocaine. Of course. It was one of the reasons that he and Ana rarely socialized in Aspen. They were inevitably brought into proximity with people with a permanent runny nose and it was the one thing that Christian just couldn't stomach. He picked up on what she'd said.

"Tough stuff?"

"Yeah. Withdrawal. From Heroin. Kyle, my brother," she flipped a cursory hand gesture to the man on his knees. "He looked after Connor while I came off. Cold turkey, no help, just fucking agony. Finally, Denver said they had space for me yesterday. I wasn't going to go but Chuckie came around again and he and I are bad news." She shivered in the warm sun. "Got get away from him."

"Well, they'll look after you in Denver." He made a mental note to make discreet enquiries to make sure this woman had everything she needed when she got there.

"But you should have one here!" she pressed. "This is your goddamn home – or one of them, at least. I read up on you. Read that book you wrote." Christian froze. "I just thought you were another rich asshole. Turns out you've seen the same shit that I have." She pulled out her left hand and yanked up her coat sleeve, exposing a distinctive pattern of circular scars, but this time joined dot-to-dot with a tattooed black line. It culminated in a phoenix looking like it was going to take flight up her arm. "Figured I'd put these scars to good use." She gave a mirthless laugh. "Why don't you put yours to good use?"

"Excuse me?"

"How many will see beyond the sex and understand the agony?" Her eyes held him in a way that was almost painful. Like he'd gotten a break and she hadn't. He hoped she'd get it in Denver. "And you should help people like Kyle, too," she continued. "I got burned and fucked. He got burned and beaten. He didn't fall into shooting up, though. He was stronger than I was. But he just can't find anyone to give him a job. Traumatized, see?" she said, as if it was patently obvious. "Everyone's into protecting girls from men and their dicks. That's laudable, sure, and it gets 'em to a charity ball every time. But no one's much into helping boys."

"Coping Together helps boys."

"With their moms, sure. Connor and me are easy to sell to potential donors. But it's not an easy sell when you're too old to be considered cute and vulnerable. All Kyle wants to do is tend gardens and make 'em beautiful. But he doesn't have a High School education, so it equals no job. He comes here every Saturday and neatens up the work done during the week. Makes it to his standard. 'Cause he has them, see? Just not ones you can put down on paper. "You have Coping Together, you need a Coping On Your Own, charity, now."

"It's not my charity," Christian clarified. "It was set up by my parents."

Ana approached. Ted was now gently pushing William.

"Well, you should set up a new one. I've given you its name right there."

"Hello," said Ana, taking a seat next to Christian.

"We were just talkin'," the woman said defensively.

"I can see. What about?"

"There isn't a Coping Together Center in Aspen," said Christian. "The nearest one is Denver and… I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Stacie," she replied as if it was all she possessed in the world.

"Stacie was telling me that there needs to be."

"And that he needs to help people like my brother," said Stacie. "My brother's not cute. He's fat and he's slow but he's good with flowers. People need to read your husband's book, but not for the sex – which is boring," Christian raised an eyebrow. Stacie looked at him with world-weary eyes. "I've been fucked by men since I was eight and been fucking them back since I was fourteen. There isn't much I don't know about what men like and what they don't."

"I wasn't writing about sex with men."

Stacie closed her eyes briefly. "OK," she conceded. "Then I reckon I know too much about the mechanics to get off on it." Her face fell. "There are downsides to knowing too much." She looked at her watch. "Fuck! We've missed it. Kyle! We've fucking missed the bus. Shit!"

Ana looked at Christian. "Is there a Lego store in Denver?" she asked.

"I think so," he replied and turned to Stacie. "Seeing as berating me was the reason you missed your bus, would you allow us to take you to Denver? I can't manage a bus, but I have a plane on standby at Pitkin?"

Stacie was silent for a moment and then gave an incredulous laugh.

"A plane? No way?"

He ignored it. "And I'll ask the board of Coping Together to investigate the possibility of a center in Aspen."

"Yeah, 'cause there isn't just me. There's dozens of us. Not that the city authorities will have you believe we exist. Not in affluent Aspen. It's unthinkable," she sassed and looked over to her brother for a moment. "He was just carrying my stuff to the bus, but could he come for the ride, please? He's a good guy. He just got dealt a shit hand."

Christian understood that. Beyond them, Phoebe was talking to Connor and Ted was looking interested in what they were saying, and mildly pissed that he'd been left in charge of the babies. Darcey was trying to climb out of her swing. Ana nipped that in the bud and sprinted to her.

"Sure," Christian said, standing up and paying closer attention to the beautifully straight edge of lawn that now surrounded the flower border. Kyle had turned his attention to the pruning. "They won't employ him with that attention to detail?"

"They won't look at him. Never gets past the application process. Doesn't even have a regular address."

Christian really didn't need to think hard about it. "Then, I have a job for him."

Stacie's mouth dropped open and equally the years in her dropped away as her face came alive. "Really?" The word came out as almost a sob. "Oh my God," she said, tears springing to her eyes as all toughness and capability left her in the face of benevolence to her brother. "A job? An actual fucking job?"

"Yes. I need an Assistant Gardener. Do you think he'd say yes?"

Stacie was almost vibrating with excitement. "Yes!" she squeaked jumping up and down in a way that suggested someone far younger than she appeared to be.

"Stacie, how old are you?" From the lines around her eyes he was expecting thirty.

"Twenty-one."

It shocked him. "And Connor?"

"He's ten."

Christian looked at the little boy who was no taller than Phoebe but as old as Ted, who was considerably taller.

"Technically," she said quietly, "he's my half-brother." There was a long moment of silence. "But I'll never tell him," she added. "It's not something you want to know about yourself." She looked at him, her mask of doing her best under tough circumstances was firmly back in place. "I'm serious," she continued. "Tell your story. Tell people how you got out. I don't mean the weird sex with the older woman thing," bet your wife loved that." She made a face like she was being sick. "I mean the whole self-discipline thing. What it takes to overcome that shit. It takes guts to do that. I know you're supposed to say balls but they're pathetic saggy things, whereas guts are amazing. There's an entire fucking ecosystem in there. I was watching this thing on the Discovery Channel just last week about it. Fascinating." She shook her head slowly, enraptured by thoughts of people's intestines. It made Christian smile.

There was a sudden gust of wind and Stacie pulled her parka more tightly around her slight frame. Christian pulled out his phone.

"Let's get you to Denver," he said.

"And think about it. Set up Coping on Your Own."

Christian shook his head. "I don't think I could," he gestured to Ana. "I had help."

Stacie rolled her eyes. "Are you as thick as shit?"

Christian mused that there was a time when insubordination on such a scale would have been met with punishment beyond imagining.

"You're their help – or people like you," she clarified. "People who've been down there helping other people in turn to get up and stand on their own two feet. With your name behind it, people would donate lots of money to fund it."

"Perhaps."

"I reckon they would. And something I thought of as I was reading your book," she took a step closer to him. "You and me, we're not so very different, 'cept where we work and the fact that I charge for my services. People, will pay very good money to be treated like shit. Odd that. Rich people begging for a beating and to be enslaved and poor people desperate for freedom and someone to love them. It's a fucking screwed up world, yes?"

"It is," mused Christian as Stacie went to collect her bag. In his head thoughts bloomed of ways that Coping Together could help even more people. He'd need to speak to his parents, but first there was a small matter of getting to Denver.


	62. Chapter 62

**CHAPTER 62**

**Saturday**

Ana balanced William on her hip and guided Darcey, who was half-hiding behind her leg, through the main door of the Denver center, behind Stacie, Kyle, Connor, Phoebe and Ted. Christian was behind her.

"Stacie and Connor Anderson?" said a florid, kindly-looking woman who greeted them.

"Yes," said Stacie.

The woman looked with concern at the large group. "Are these your family?"

"Uh… No. Kyle here's ma' family, Mr Grey and his wife just gave us a ride."

The woman was instantly alarmed. "Mr Grey?" She looked down the line and Ana turned to find her husband reading the notice board.

"Christian!" she hissed, when he didn't respond to his name. He'd been oddly distracted the whole way over. He looked up, a little startled.

"Mr Grey?" the woman repeated drawing closer. "I'm Maeve Sherlock, the center manager," she extended her hand. "May I say what an honor it is to welcome you to the Denver Coping Together Center, sir."

Christian shook hands with her. "Thank you. I'm very pleased to be here. This isn't one I've visited before."

Ana looked at him. In truth, he'd visited very few, being present at the openings of only the Detroit and Seattle ones. He'd left it to his parents. It was their thing, he didn't want to intrude. He viewed his contribution as regular donations to keep the charity expanding and reaching more families in need.

"And you gave Miss Anderson a ride here? That was very kind of you."

"In his plane!" said Connor, who couldn't keep his excitement inside any longer. Christian had given instructions for the journey to take an hour, even though the Aspen to Denver hop would have been a few minutes at most.

"Oh my!" exclaimed Maeve, clasping her hands to her not inconsiderable chest and giving a girlish giggle. "Well then, let's show you to your room. Stacie, follow me, please."

Darcey, emboldened now went ahead with Phoebe, using her older sister for cover should there be anything scary in her path. Ana hung back with Christian, who earnestly peered in to every open door they passed. The center was clean, warm, bright and well decorated, but it couldn't quite throw off the sense of being slightly institutional. It had the faint air of a hospital about it and with the faces she saw looking back from the open doors, it wasn't a wrong observation. The people in here were healing from traumas that she could only imagine.

"Do you have many families here?" Christian asked as Maeve directed Stacie and Connor into a room at the end of the hallway.

"We can take ten families at a time."

"And how long do they stay?"

"Mostly, a couple of months until things settle and we can get them into fresh accommodation. Some longer if there are addictions to work through."

"How many does each room hold?"

"We plan for an average of one adult and three children, but we'll get in as many beds as they need."

"And nobody goes into care, right?"

Maeve nodded. "Right. If Mom or Dad needs hospital treatment, to get off a substance or needs treatment for depression, we have guardians who step right in. It's our unique policy. But you know that, of course," she laughed. Ms Sherlock obviously unaware that it was Christian's experience that was the reason that Grace Trevelyn-Grey had insisted it be written into its founding charter. No child was to be pushed into foster care where there was the chance of keeping the family together. She'd been most insistent about it, Christian said. Not that he'd had a bad time in foster care, but maybe it had been a tough time for Grace? Never completely sure if the little boy she'd set her heart on adopting would be able to come and live with them.

The little group filed into Stacie and Connor's new rooms, the two of them enthusiastically checking out the small, but adequate bedrooms for each of them. More space had been allocated to the living area, with a kitchenette, a dining table and a living room set in the open-plan area. Each room had access to a small paved courtyard, where brightly coloured plants did their best to compete with equally brightly coloured planters. Kyle looked a little bemused, dumped the hold-all in the middle of the room and sat down on the sofa. Stacie came out of her new bedroom with the very clear shining pearls of tears in her eyes. Ana handed William to Christian.

"Would you like some help unpacking?" she asked, grabbing hold of the huge bag.

"Oh, don't lift that Mrs Grey it's…"

Ana tried not to grunt under the weight of it. No wonder Kyle had been the one to carry her bag. She smiled, admitted defeat and dragged it into the young woman's bedroom.

"What have you got in here, rocks?" asked Ana, bending down to unzip it.

"Everything," said Stacie. "I'm not going back." She sighed. "I shouldn't have bawled at your husband like that. In many ways I'm glad to be out of Aspen, it's nothing but a rich people's town. But, I'm scared," she admitted. "And scared makes me yearn for things that aren't good for me. There's familiarity in a high from heroin."

On the way down Stacie had told Ana more of her story. They weren't originally from Aspen, but from Glenwood Springs. Not long after giving birth to Connor her father increased his assaults on her, which only stopped when he got himself arrested for mowing down a pedestrian whilst driving drunk. Not a word was said about his treatment of his children in court, just his drinking – which was all the evidence they had on him. Not wanting to end up in foster home with do-gooders who might want to prise out the truth of who Connor's father was, Stacie grabbed her son and her brother and ran from Glenwood, heading into the city of Aspen and to easy money made on her back, her knees or on the hood of some rich guy's car. She could name names, she said. Men who gave a very good illusion of being happily married but where in fact sad and very crap fucks.

Kyle looked after Connor whilst she earned enough to keep the three of them together, but they constantly moved from place to place, once the neighbors got wind of what she was doing. She fell into using heroin one night at a party that some guy had taken her to. It gave her an escape and instantly had her in its clutches. She spent longer each night making the money, doing things she once vowed she'd never do and supplementing her earnings with theft. She saw less and less of Connor, and finally reached the bottom one morning when she came around, bleeding and bitten and with no recollection of how the fuck it had happened.

"I knew about these centers, but I had no idea how you got yourself into one, so I was brave, pitched up at the hospital and just asked."

"And they got you on the waiting list?"

"No. They gave me the number to call. Actually getting them to do something for me would probably cost me money I needed for food."

Ana lifted out the clothes and possessions onto Stacie's bed and the woman sorted them into two small piles. Connor's and hers. What was causing the weight was books. Red hardbacks with the titles in black print on the spines. They were classics. The Mill on the Floss, Silas Marner, Bleak House.

"These were my mom's before she died. One day I'm going to find the time to read them. But, I just don't know which one to start with."

Ana picked out Tess of the D'Urbervilles by Thomas Hardy. "Start with that," she said. "It's my favorite."

"Does it have a happy ending?"

Ana wrinkled her nose. "The classics aren't known for their happy endings."

Stacie scoffed. "Then why say it's your favorite?"

"Because it's intense and beautifully written," said Ana, flicking through the yellowing and slightly mottled pages of text. "It doesn't have to give you a warm and fuzzy feeling for you to know that you're reading something brilliant."

Christian poked his head around the door.

"I'm going for a walk around the center," he said glancing at what they were doing. "Everything OK?"

"Sure," said Stacie. "We're talking about books. Your wife said I should read Tess of the D'Urbervilles."

"Did she now?" said Christian with a smirk on her face. "Did she tell you what she did when I tried to give her a copy of it?"

"No?"

"Heartlessly threw it back in my face!"

"I did not!" Ana laughed. "I wrapped them up and handed them back. I may have also written a note. Ignore him. Read it, it's excellent."

"A bit like your husband's book, then?" said Stacey when Christian had gone, placing the books on a shelf.

"_White Tower_? You think it's good?"

"Yeah. Only people who know how bad it can get can write with such conviction. When he wrote about being burned by the cigarettes…" Stacie shuddered. "It was like…ugh. Too real."

"And how did you get a copy of it?"

"I have friends," she said nonchalantly. "Friends who still keep in touch and buy my bullshit about working in Wendy's. If they knew the truth they wouldn't be friends. One's in Seattle now. She sent it to me. Works for GEH, actually. I don't remember which department - in case you're thinking of tracking her down."

"I think it's gone too wide for that."

"You should still put it out as a proper book. I challenged him to put his scars to good use and I reckon people would get another copy if they thought that they were helping little families like this. Does he ever wonder how it might have turned out if his mom had lived?"

Ana shook her head. It was a conversation that they had never had.

**xXXx**

Christian followed Maeve Sherlock back through the center to the main office where she took down a file from a shelf.

"These are some of our referral notes," she said, pulling out the sheets. "This is what we know about each of our current families. It helps us to gain a picture of the support they might need and the practical help we need to give them to get back on their feet. But we can only do so much. We can help in the short term, but, as I'm sure you know, traumas like this don't dissipate by magic in eight weeks. We wish we could do more – and this isn't a plea for more money. But to be really effective, it would help to be able to give them support in the long term. My heart breaks when we get returnees."

"They come back?"

"Yes," Maeve pulled out one set of notes. "Amy we got her settled a year ago. An apartment, job, a car, the works and she's been back with us for the last four weeks. I say with us, she's currently in the hospital. Life got a little too much. We're looking after Brad for her. He's four and a little angel. Doesn't say much. Neither would you if you'd seen what he'd seen."

"Is he here?"

"Yes. Want to meet him?"

"Sure."

Maeve led him down the hallway to room four. She knocked and waiting for the answer, went in. Brad was on the floor covering large sheets of paper with thick red crayon. Close by, patiently crocheting as she looked on, was a woman the spitting image of Maeve. She got up as the two visitors came into the room. Maeve introduced him. "Mr Grey, this is my sister, Clarrie Sherlock."

"Ms Sherlock," said Christian, shaking her hand, but more curious about the little boy on the floor. Coloring everything red didn't seem a very healthy thing to do when you could use all other colors in the box. Clarrie seemed to sense that he wanted to get down on the floor with him, and she encouraged him to do that. Christian sat down opposite a pale, white-haired boy, who was similar in age to Darcey but yet reminded him so painfully of the boy that he used to be.

"Brad likes coloring, Mr Grey."

"Grey?" said Brad, shocking Christian, who'd expected him not to talk at all. The little boy fished the gray crayon out of the box. "Like that?"

"Yes," said Christian as Brad handed him the color, pushing aside his paper to get Christian a clean sheet of paper.

"You can color on this," he said, resuming his large swirls of red that he was making on the paper. He wasn't doing it with anger, it seemed to be coming out merely as expression. Christian didn't immediately follow suit and Brad stopped and looked up, pushing white curls out of his eyes. "Just make a picture on the paper that express how you feel," he said, clearly parroting something that perhaps an art therapist had told him.

"And you're doing it in red?" Christian asked. Brad looked down at his sheet.

"I see red," he said quietly. "All the time."

Christian glanced up to Maeve, who returned an anxious smile.

"Art helps people to say what they can't with words. Why don't you join in? Express yourself in gray, Mr Grey."

The similarity of words made Brad chuckle and the lovely sound encouraged Christian to try, making his first few marks on the sheet not really knowing what he was going to do or what was going to come out. He remembered back to when he was perhaps around Brad's age and Carrick used to sit with him and they'd 'take a line for a walk' all over the paper and color in the shapes that it made. Christian tried that, dragging the gray wax over the sheet leaving a trail, casting an eye every so often over what Brad was doing. He continued to make large red swirls. When Christian looked at what he'd done, the pattern shocked him.

"It's a heart," said Brad. "You've drawn a heart."

"So I have," said Christian, weakly, as Brad switched his attention to Christian's paper and was about to launch in with his red crayon to color it in. "No, it needs to be gray, Brad," he said, gently folding his hand over the boy's and handing him the gray crayon instead. "It needs to be gray."

The moment stunned him. He was fifty shades of fucked up no longer. Grey, and spelled that way he mentally insisted to himself, was the color of the heart that Ana had discovered all those years ago. Bruised, battered and deeply buried, she'd brought it to the surface and loved it back to health. He was all heart these days. A man filled with love. For his wife, for his children, for his parents who'd worked incredibly hard when Christian didn't think he was worth trying hard for. Love in his heart for his slightly exasperating sister and brother, his extended family, his friends, his daft as a brush Executive PA, Andrea, his staff and his many thousands of employees who showed up to GEH each day and gave it their heart and soul. And here it was now, beating strongly with concern for a little boy, who hadn't got it all sorted out in his head yet, but with drawing a picture of it, he was starting to get there.

Andrea had gotten the city to cover itself in gray hearts for him and the thought at last made him smile. He was a man with a heart, who'd have thought it?

He looked down at the simple picture he'd drawn which seemed to have unlocked something that he'd struggled to understand.

"Amazing stuff, art," said Clarrie Sherlock, gently.

"You teach this?"

"Yes, sir," said Clarrie. "Helped my husband to say things he couldn't about Vietnam. Helped our son through his time out in the Gulf. So I reckoned it might help a little boy who'd seen too much at a young age."

"It did," said Christian, swallowing with difficulty as something stuck in this throat. "It really did."


	63. Chapter 63

**CHAPTER 63**

**Sunday**

Andrea lifted her head off the pillow and listened for the distant familiar noise. "Is that my phone?" she asked. The sleeping form of her husband grunted, although working out whether that was a 'yes' or 'no' grunt was impossible. She looked at the clock, it glowed back 04:55 at her and being a little more awake now she heard it again. It was indeed her phone. More specifically it was the ring tone she'd set for calls from one man.

"What the…? I thought he'd stopped this," she muttered as she threw back the covers. Sliding her feet into flip flops she walked through the house, little caring that she didn't have a stitch on. Her blinds were down.

Her phone was on charge on the kitchen counter. It had been many years since she'd needed to sleep with it under her pillow, in case Mr Christian Insomniac Grey decided that 3am was the perfect time for the latest chapter in his world domination plan to unfold and needed his PA in work. It was repeatedly ringing and going to voicemail. The front screen listed 15 missed calls. She yanked out the cable and answered.

"Christian?"

"Oh, Andrea, hi," said the familiar voice. "I guess I woke you. Sorry." It was a step up from the once frequent 'Parker, I need you,' and then an abrupt cutting off. "I didn't know who else to call and you're always good to kick ideas around with."

Andrea frowned. "Is Ana not with you?"

"Um… no. I need," he paused. "I need someone who… knows about things that Ana doesn't."

"Um…" Andrea scrambled to know what that might be. She was fairly sure that in an Excel spreadsheet fight she and Ana Grey would be evenly matched.

"Your past Andrea," said Christian. "Your burns."

"Oh," she said, the word coming out with such force that it made her stagger back a little.

"Can we talk? I mean, in person?"

"Sure. I could come in early tomorrow."

"I was thinking more like today."

"OK," she said, flicking the kitchen light on and checking her calendar on the wall. The square for Sunday was free. "But I thought you were in Aspen for the weekend?"

"I was. We are. I mean the other still are. I've come back. There's too much on my mind."

"OK, well, um…" She knew she had a large chicken in the fridge. "Do you want to come over for lunch?"

"Uh… how about I come over for breakfast?"

"OK. Sure. Come over about 8."

"Can you do five?" There was a knock on the door and she spun round in shock. "I brought pastries?"

"Five?" said Andrea, a little confused. "Like, now? That's you at the door?"

"Yeah. Can you let me in please? Your neighbour across the way is staring at me."

"I'm not surprised," she muttered walking for the door. She was almost there before she realised one very important thing. "Fuck!" she said and scurried away. Andrea scurried back to their bedroom and over to Luke. She shook him. "Christian's here!" she hissed, "Wake up!"

Unlike Andrea for whom waking up was a gradual transition into increasing state of consciousness, Luke Sawyer existed in two: awake and asleep, there was no middle ground. He was vertical in an instant and armed to the teeth with sass.

"You answered the door to him like that?"

"No, he's on the phone!" She held up her device. "But yes, he's at the door."

Luke took the phone from her. "Christian? Is there a problem?" He listened as Andrea quickly pulled on panties, a bra and sweats, throwing a clean pair of shorts over to Luke. "Sure, see you in two." He threw the phone onto the bed, grabbing the shorts.

Andrea looked with longing as Luke pulled the shorts up over his thighs and covered over the bit of him she'd been hoping to get a little time with, later. But, Sunday morning sex wasn't to be.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, reaching for his jeans.

"Nothing," she said, with a sigh.

"Funny, I could have sworn you were ogling my dick."

"Well, I was, but…"

"And this is nothing?" he said dropping his jeans and pulling down the front of his shorts to release himself. He was instantly ready, oh my God, so ready.

Andrea was agog. "How does it do that? I mean, a second ago it was…resting."

"It only responds to you."

"Well, I'm very thankful for that."

"You want?"

"Uh… yeah, but, I'm dressed and Christian's at the…"

Luke was behind her in an instant, hands sliding down her sweatpants and her panties and pushing her over the base of the bed. He filled her quickly, his size always made her gasp and taken like this there was no mitigation. Using his thumbs to stretch her a little wider, he pulled her back onto him. She was full to the brim and he held her there, giving her three deep, quick thrusts that made her emit unladylike grunts. He stilled, holding her steady as he moved gently from side to side feeling the extent of him. After a long moment he withdrew, pulled up her clothing and helped her up. "I told Christian we'd see him in two minutes. Call that a down payment on later," he grinned, tucking himself back into his shorts.

"You're a tease, Mr Sawyer," she said, slapping his behind as he pulled on his jeans.

"I don't tease, Andie," he buckled his belt. "You know that. When I want something, I get it." She squared up to him and he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Christian's waiting," she reminded him.

"Then let him wait."

She laughed in shock. "Oh, if he could hear you."

"But he won't," he said with a grin, reaching to slide his hand between her legs. "Laters, baby," he said with a kiss and she rolled her eyes.

"You've been hanging around with Elliott too long." She pulled away from him, grabbed her phone and walked through the house to the front door. Luke followed her, pulling on a gray t-shirt.

"No, it's a statement of fact. I'm having you later."

"Well, I'd like to see how you're going to manage that once Emma and Charlie wake up," she reached the door, unbolted it and opened it to Christian. He was standing on their porch, with a box of pastries and holding up his phone.

"I don't know what was more awkward, listening to you grunt during sex or Luke telling me I could wait." He walked through the door and dropped the pastries into Luke's hands.

"I am so sorry, sir," Luke was uncharacteristically beetroot red.

Christian Grey was smirking. "Good job this wasn't ten years ago, you would have lost your job, right there. But, it's just gone 5am, I too am missing Sunday morning sex with my wife and I'm also incredibly hungry. So you can make the coffee, Mr Sawyer while I talk to your wife."

Andrea too could feel the heat in her cheeks. Grunting? Oh my god.

"Come and sit down," she said, trying to act normally and leading him through to the living room. She took a seat opposite her boss. For so early in the morning he still looked well turned out, apart from hair that was drying from a shower.

"Sorry this is so early," he said.

"I'm assuming Ana knows you're here?"

"She knew I was coming to speak to you, although she'd be doing her nut if she realised how early I showed up."

"So, just for the record. Why 5am and not 8am?"

"Because I'd like to be able to get a decision settled, and still have time to finish the weekend with my family."

"You're not making it with Ana?"

"We've talked about it. Pretty much the whole of last night. We focused on the children and what implications it could have for them. But, the story is out and everywhere, so this can't be a case of hiding them from the truth, just helping them to deal with it. My past is my past, I wrote it down, it got out and everyone now knows about it." He sat forward, clasping his hands between his knees. "But before I make the final decision what to do, next, I wanted to talk to you about it. I met someone yesterday who said that she read all of it but the bit she struggled with the most was when I wrote about the burns. And I wondered whether you had, too?"

Andrea nodded. "Yes," she said hoarsely. Luke arrived with coffee and the pastries laid out on a plate. "There's imagining what it might be like and there's writing down what actually happens. The pain, the smell. Oh my god, the smell," she covered her face and Luke went to her, holding his wife.

"I'm sorry," said Christian. "It's things like that which, had it been properly edited, could have been picked up and softened."

Andrea pulled away from Luke. "Don't soften it," she said with alarm. "If it's going to do any good then you have to make people understand what people like us go through. Don't spare anyone's blushes. If they can't cope with the smell of burning flesh, then they should be properly funding charities like Coping Together and Azurelight Ministries. Penny has to work damn hard to raise every cent and she doesn't have a celebrity patron."

"I'm not a celebrity patron," Christian snapped. "It wouldn't even be in existence had it not been for the state I was in when I arrived at the hospital. Sorry," he added, after a beat.

"No, it's me that should be sorry."

In the depths of the house there was a soft click and the pad of feet.

"That's what I was sorry for," he said, sitting back on the sofa as Emma Sawyer, tousle haired and rubbing her eyes made her way into the living room. Luke got up.

"Hey baby girl," he said, scooping up his daughter.

Emma looked around. "Is Phoebe here?"

"No," said Christian. They're in Aspen at the moment. I'm sorry for waking you."

"Shall we go find something to read?" said Luke striding off with Emma. "Save me a pastry," he called.

Andrea picked one up and took a bite and then washed it down with a sip of coffee.

"I take it you're working out whether you should go ahead with publishing it properly?"

"Yes," said Christian. "Although it's not going to achieve much on its own as half the planet seems to own free copies. So it sort of commits me to writing the rest of the story. The final part will be a breeze, it's all going to be about Ana, but the middle one will be a dark place that I won't escape from smelling of roses. You know what I was like back then."

"I didn't know you that well."

"I appreciate that, but you know the extent of what I'm going to call 'the Asshole Years'."

Andrea wrinkled her nose. "You were never an asshole. Impossibly demanding, yes. Unyielding, at times and an absolutely insufferable perfectionist. But never callous, or mean, or just downright unpleasant. In some ways, when you were like that, I knew where I was with you. I knew how you'd react, so I could make sure that I managed things to cause you the least annoyance. But when you started cancelling meetings on a whim, buying jewelry, going out on dates and taking calls from your girlfriend in meetings, then it all got messy for a while. Very messy," she added with a smile. "I didn't know where I was or what the fuck had happened to you."

"If it's any consolation, neither did I for a while."

"And now… Look at you."

Christian grabbed a pastry and sat back. "Yes, look at me," he said, slapping his slightly saggy stomach.

"You're no longer Superman," said Andrea. "You're just a man. And all the better for it. Ana knocked off some pretty hard edges off you. I can't wait to read the story of you and her."

Christian bit his lip. "I can't wait to write it. It's the bit that has to come before it that's going to hurt her. And that's the last thing I want to do."

"Writing about the sub years?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I want the whole thing to be used for people to know that there's light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel has to go through a very dark place until I meet Ana."

Andrea nursed her coffee and thought for a moment. "Back then, nothing touched the sides with you."

Christian put his head on one side. "Go on."

"It didn't. Nothing seemed to affect you. The weather, the football scores, the stock prices, people's emotions or opinions. They just…bounced off you as if you were behind glass. The only emotion I ever saw with any certainty, was irritation. I think you might have once expressed pleasure - in about 2009, but the jury's still out on that. You were Mr Flatline. Alive, but not living. So, if it were me and I had to write about my past before Luke, but try my hardest not to hurt him; I'd be showing that before he arrived on the scene, my life was essentially miserable." Christian sipped his coffee. "Do you know the ABBA song 'The Day Before You Came?" Andrea continued. Christian shook his head. "Listen to it," she said. "It's like your life is just going through the motions. Another day, another deal, another woman you have to train. And then… BAM! Anastasia Steele in her Walmart special."

Christian grinned. "You've never forgotten than, have you? What she was wearing."

"Listen, we spent entire paychecks on clothes to try and impress you and you go swan off with Walmart Woman. We thought you had standards."

Christian laughed. "She could have been wearing DKNY and I think she'd have still cracked the glass and got in. That's just Ana, she cut through all of that crap. Made me want something I didn't believe I deserved."

"What?"

"Sweetness. Softness. Someone's love."

"Write it with her," suggested Andrea. "That way she can veto the parts she doesn't want in. Nobody expects chapter and verse. Although, as that time most definitely involves me, I think I will be insisting that your PA is a total superhero and saves the day on countless occasions."

"And then schedules me into a meeting across town an hour after I'd had a lunchtime vasectomy."

"Hey, we talked about that and I told you no hiding medical appointments from me."

"To be fair, I didn't want it broadcast to my workforce."

"As if."

"Says the woman who left her phone on while she had a quickie with her husband just now."

"That was not me. That was Luke. Oh god," she sighed, finishing the rest of her pastry."

Luke returned. "She's gone back to sleep." He reached for a pastry.

Christian got up. "Well, I'll let you get back to what you were doing."

"Where are you going?" asked Andrea.

"Back to Aspen."

"Just like that. Back to Aspen. How the other half live, huh?"

Christian raised his hands. "It's there anytime you want it. You know that. And the plane to take you."

"I know, but," Andrea shrugged. "I feel awkward asking for it."

"Why?" Christian was truly baffled. "If no one is using it I'd rather you did. It's a shame it's empty so often." He looked at Luke. "Please use it, it's there. I want to share it with you."

"Ha!" said Andrea. "That wouldn't have been you before Ana."

"No indeed. Not unless I was pretty much at knifepoint. Or my Mom wanted a…" He stared at her.

"What? Is there something the matter?"

"No," he smiled, as if a weight had lifted. "I always offer the Aspen house as an auction prize for Coping Together."

"And?"

"Well, why don't I just give them the whole house, permanently?"

"Why would do that? It's gorgeous!"

"Well, I looked into why we don't have a Coping Together center in Aspen and it's because there's nothing suitable in the city and all the big houses are quickly snapped up by rich people. So, why doesn't this rich person donate his house?"

"I'd talk through that one with Ana," said Andrea. "She likes it there."

"We can build another one or choose one together somewhere else."

"Andie's right," said Luke. "I'd talk it through with Ana before you decide. If I did something like that, my ass would be on the barbeque quicker than spit."

"You're no longer in your glass bubble now, Mr Grey, You have children, a wife and other people to consider in your mad plan to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy."

"I'm not out to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy."

"And the pastries?"

"That's me assuaging my guilt at waking you up at insane o'clock."

"And this is me saying, my kids are both asleep, it's Sunday morning. So if you don't mind, Mr Grey," said Luke. "We'll see you at the office bright and early tomorrow. I need some time with my wife."

Christian raised an eyebrow. "You want any pointers? Andrea did mention…"

"That's it!" Andrea called, flushing puce. "Out! Just…grrrr! Sometimes you are so exasperating!" She pushed him.

"But Andrea, you wanted to know…"

"Not here! Not now!" She pushed him, Christian was chuckling. "Just… go and…die horribly somewhere and take what's left of my dignity with you!" She rounded on her boss. "You know, sometimes I could cheerfully whack you around the head with a brick. How Ana puts up with you, I have no idea. The woman's a saint!"

"You love me really," he grinned impishly.

"This," she said raising a finger. "This is the tough part. Mr Living in his Glass House I could understand. This schoolboy obsession with teasing me about sex, I don't get."

"If it's any consolation, Ana thinks I've reached about the age of sixteen in emotional development. I still have a lot catching up to do."

"Well catch up somewhere else. Good morning Mr Grey."

He put his hand on the door frame to brace himself against getting pushed out of the door. "So, should I write my book?"

"Yes," Andrea said, now mildly exasperated with him. "Because everyone wants to know how it ends. Now, for the love of fuck, go home."

Andrea closed the door and found Luke standing in front of her, arms crossed with deep ridge between his eyebrows.

"Do you have a problem with the way I make love to you?"

"No," Andrea said, scooping up the plate and the coffee mugs. "It's just Christian's idea of a joke. Ignore it."

"You've clearly talked to him about it or I wouldn't have just witnessed you pushing one of America's richest men out the door as if you couldn't get him out of my sight fast enough."

"Luke, it's nothing. It's a joke. He does a lot of that and usually it's at my expense because he knows that I get embarrassed easily."

"So this book that everyone's talking about. You have a copy?"

"Yes," she admitted," walking over to the kitchen and busying herself putting the things in the dishwasher. Luke came to stand beside her.

"So, how come you haven't shared it with me? If it contains passages that upset you because it takes you back to what your father did, then I want to know about it." Andrea stood up and shut the dishwasher. "How long have you had it?" She could feel the edge in his voice, he was slipping into interrogation mode.

"A few weeks."

"And you told no one about it?"

"Nobody that didn't have a copy, no."

"So that's all the men in Seattle?"

"No. David had a copy. Christian gave it to him." She scooped the hair back behind her ear. "Luke, I can't explain exactly why I hid it from you, other than I expected something bigger than Nagasaki to be floating above our heads right now, and it isn't and I'm not exactly sure what to make of that. It's a deeply personal book, in which Mr Grey writes candidly about his very early life and then goes on to write even more candidly about a very private part of his life that he kept under wraps."

"And as one of his security team, you assume that I would be blindly ignorant to his past and his secret life behind the insignificant door at Escala?"

"The what?"

"Andie, I'm not Jason Taylor, I don't know everything, but I do know the bones of what went on in his life before Ana arrived in it. I know he was a Dominant and I know what that entails. I'm smart enough to assume that the man's pretty competent between the sheets, although I have no desire to find out for myself. But I won't allow secrets between us, Andie. You started off holding secrets back that took me ages to get out of you. I don't like being kept in the dark, by my employer, or my wife." There was silence between them. "If there are things you want to try… in bed, then just say. I'm a broad-minded guy, you know this."

Andie fingered the edge of a tea cloth.

"Let me see the book," he said and she shook her head. "Let me see it, please."

"It's on my phone." She walked over to where her phone was, picked it up, found the email that she'd saved and forwarded it to Luke. A beep on his device told her that it had arrived.

"Anything in particular you'd like me to read?"

She swallowed. "Chapter 24." Andrea watched for an age as Luke scrolled down and down reading the scene between Christian and one of his nameless early training partners. It wasn't something that she wanted to do, really, it went against everything she'd fought against for the last few years. Luke had never spanked her. It had been a no, right from the start. But how it made the woman feel and her reaction to it was beyond anything she'd experienced.

"You want to do this?" Luke asked, his face guarded. "This isn't you at all, Andie. This isn't a gentle tap, this is by your definition, a beating."

"But I want to feel like that. I want to come like that."

Luke closed the gap between her. "And you don't when we make love?"

"Not anymore," she admitted. "I'm too afraid. Of waking the children, of… being thought weird if I want something different."

"But it's not me?" he said suddenly. "I can deal with anything, but I just want to know that you still love me and you still find me… attractive."

Andrea held his face. "Of course I do! I just… We're older. We have a mortgage, two children, jobs and families and stress and whatever else that piles up. I just want to feel that freedom, to express myself when we're together. To not have quick silent moments, but to have entire nights where we make love. I wouldn't grunt if I could do that, I'd be screaming in ecstasy when you're inside me, because it's bliss, it really is, but I feel so inhibited these days."

Luke shook his head. "Spanking isn't the answer, he said with a small smile. "What we need, is a regular babysitter who can have them overnight." He looked at the clock. "Look, I know it's going to be yet another silent and unexpressive one, but would let me finish what I started earlier?"

She nodded and he took her hand tugging her gently towards the bedroom.


	64. Chapter 64

**A/N: I've just changed my user name here. From now on you'll get alerts for 'AuroraGreyheart.' R x**

**CHAPTER 64**

**Monday**

"I can't believe that's even a serious thought in your head," said Ana, stepping out of the car in the parking garage of Grey Plaza. "And we spent Sunday afternoon going through ideas to freshen up the décor. Was this mad plan in your head, then?" She stared at him and he could see her eyes searching for the answer in his face. "Oh my God, it was. So why wait until now to voice it?"

Truth? He was so desperate for her after he'd gotten back from Seattle that he'd have talked carpets if it meant he could get her up in their bedroom quicker. Being with her and their family and feeling insulated from the reality that they were returning to had made the thought evaporate from his head. He'd remembered it in the car just now when she mentioned that she was going to call their interior decorator. He knew then that it was a fruitless idea of his, but he had to say it.

"It's a solution to the problem," he added. "There isn't any property that they can use."

"The solution is purpose-built accommodation on the outskirts of the city, not a converted family home halfway up a mountain. I may sound like a heartless bitch, but I love that house and you are not giving it to Coping Together. Period."

They stepped into the elevator for Tower 2 and Christian pressed for Ana's offices. The doors closed and he took her hand. Part of him expected her to pull away, but she didn't, she moved closer.

"I hate skulking into the office like this," he admitted. He felt Ana's hand run down his arm and she gripped his a little tighter. They usually walked across the concourse with their employees but today neither of them wanted to fight their way through the press. Not when there was so much to do.

Dropping his hand and placing her tote on the floor, she wrapped her arms around him and he circled his free hand around her waist, burying his nose in her hair and inhaling the scent of her shampoo. They stood there in silence until the car reached the correct floor and the doors slid open.

"Showtime," he whispered and taking her by the hand they walked out into Grey Publishing together.

In contrast to Thursday the office was subdued. It was early and the phones which had provided a constant cacophony of sound the last time he was in here, were silent for the moment. So were the staff, who moved about the place with economy. There was no Monday morning catch-up, no gaggle of them over by the water cooler. Each one was simply getting on with their job. Most of them glanced up as the Ana and Christian arrived and he saw one or two of them pale at the sight of them, a little fearful with what might be said or actioned today. On the right hand side the band of four desks which served as the primary receipt area for manuscripts and submissions was depleted. Only David remained and his appearance caused Christian to give a discrete nod of approval. His acolyte was maintaining the grooming standard that Christian had set.

Ana went into her office, the desk outside it now vacant and cleared, Hannah being another member of staff who wouldn't be returning. Along with the other three who hadn't signed NDA's, Hannah Martin would be hearing from his legal team. He was very clear on that. The other three were just as guilty as Hannah for willfully passing the manuscript on. She may be feeling the weight of remorse and Christian appreciated that, but that didn't exempt her from facing up to the reality of what she'd done.

His wife stood behind her desk, leaning on the back of her chair. He stood beside her wanting so much to hold her right now. He felt stronger when he did that, but he knew she needed a little space to center herself and she would claim him when she was ready to.

"So this is a yes, then?"

"I thought we decided this last night?" said Christian.

"Just to be absolutely sure," she said, turning to him. "You really want to put your story out there, in three parts, with your name on it and with all the money going to charity?"

"Yes."

"And you want Grey Publishing to do it?"

"Yes. And I want you to have the final veto on everything," he added.

She looked at him, eyes somewhat pained. "I think the ship's pretty much sailed on that."

"The first part, yes," he said softly. "But I'll only write what you want me to for parts 2 and 3."

"A lot of people are going to be angry with you for exposing them in part 1. We can't recall it and change the names. So, all the work I'd been doing to anonymise them has been wasted."

"I'm sorry."

"What's for you to be sorry about?"

"I should have written it more carefully in the first place. If it had gone out truly anonymously, this wouldn't have happened."

"Christian, it shouldn't have gone anywhere! Not until we'd edited it, formatted it, stuck it between some covers and shipped it out to Barnes and Noble. This should not have happened! Although I can't say I'm feeling all that benevolent to Roger Carter in the light of him turning out to be a serial killer." Ana seemed to diminish. "What if…? No." She shook her head.

"What?"

"Nothing."

He reached for her. "Ana," he stressed. He hated it when she said 'nothing,' it was always something and usually pretty major. He pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms, holding her securely and feeling her arms slide under his jacket and clasp themselves behind his back. She rested her head against his shoulder.

"What if he'd spent a lot of time with you?" she whispered. "And what if his sick ideas had become yours? You really did want to hurt women when I met you. What if that had been taken to the extreme?"

He couldn't deny that it had occupied his head after the man had been arrested and charged. His long deliberations about it had resulted in only one thought.

"I'd like to think, that although I struggled to believe I had a heart, I did at least have a conscience. I knew where the line was, Ana. That was always very clear to me."

"And what about Elena? To be honest, with your use of the tissue-thin 'Marlene' I'm surprised she hasn't been hammering on the door already."

"She's in Canada," Christian said with a shrug. "Perhaps she hasn't heard yet?"

"I doubt it," Ana chuckled against his shirt. "She'd need to have been in the world's deepest cavern not to have heard your name over the last couple of weeks."

"Precisely where my mother wants her right now. Thank God she's in Nebraska this week. If she'd caught up with Elena…" Christian winced. "I have never seen her as mad as she was on Thursday. It was scary."

"Women get protective over their children. You should know that." Ana raised an eyebrow and Christian nodded. Ana had been emphatic that their first priority in all this was their children. Not Christian's feelings, not GEH, Grey Publishing, people's inability to deal with the truth of their lives or the future of Coping Together. Ted, Phoebe, Darcey and William needed to know the truth about Daddy's past, the journey he'd been on with Mommy and that there was nothing in that journey to hurt them. Phoebe had certainly hit the nail on the head yesterday.

"So you started to get better when you met Mommy?"

"Yes, I did," he'd said to her with a smile, cupping his hands around her face and experiencing the thrill when she allowed him to hold her. That was one of the good things that had come out of this process. More hugs with his elder daughter. Phoebe's emotional self-sufficiency scared him, whereas Darcey would happily hang herself from him night and day. Two more different girls you couldn't find.

"Time to do this," said Ana, pushing herself away from him and straightening her hair and clothes. "I'll say what I need to say and then I'll introduce you to Francesca, your Editor."

"You're not doing it?"

Ana shook her head. "No. I'm not an Editor, plus, you need someone other than me to read your work and Francesca's ruthless. She won't let you get away with sloppy writing."

Christian felt uncomfortable. "Ruthless?"

"Yes." Ana's smile was a shade away from triumphant. "I'm sure a man of your stature will be able to cope with her comments."

Christian pouted a little. "But, this is my life I'm writing about."

"And she'll be on hand to make sure that you tell it in a clear and engaging manner. Also, she'll be able to deal with your inability to use a semi-colon correctly," she grinned.

He pouted more and she leaned forward and gently bit his protruding bottom lip. "Careful Mr Grey," she whispered. "I may demand services from you." She placed her hand flat against his groin. If she thought that would quell his ardor then it was having precisely the opposite effect. Ana laughed and swept away, leaving him semi-erect and wondering where he'd gone wrong with semi-colons.

"Minx," he muttered. It had become Darcey's favorite word.

Composed again he followed Ana out into the main office where she'd stood in a place where everyone could see her.

"Could I have your attention, please?" She didn't really need to say it. Everyone was on tenterhooks waiting for this. "Events on Thursday meant that I didn't have the opportunity to say this before I left. As you are all now aware, the book that you were so freely distributing amongst yourselves was the manuscript of my husband's book. He'd submitted it to me anonymously and I had agreed to publish it, although some necessary work needed to be carried out to anonymize some of the people and the incidents in it. Obviously, all that work is now out the window. The book seems to be everywhere and being reported in places as far away as London, Tokyo and Kuala Lumpur." A few of the staff looked at each other, obviously as surprised and shocked by this news as Christian was.

"This shouldn't have happened," she stressed enunciating each word clearly. "We will not be regarded as serious players in the industry if we are going to be so cavalier with our potential author's manuscripts. While I can understand the appeal of _White Tower_, I cannot condone what was done and I'm upset that not one of you questioned what you were doing when you were forwarding it to everyone in your address book. Aside from the deep damage that it's done to my family, do you have no respect for the personal copyright of an author or the reputation of this company?" Her words were met with bowed heads and contrite silence.

"Oh Thursday, my heart told me to fire the lot of you and I won't lie, I nearly did it. I felt betrayed."

"Ana," started a man at the far end. "Not all of us shared it."

She batted the comment. "I'm not descending into a finger pointing game of who did that and who did this. There were enough systematic failures for this to be one we take as a team." She smacked the edge of her right hand down into left with each word. "We never let this happen again. Are we clear?"

In full flight his wife was magnificent and in in the face of such embarrassment she had brought it back.

There was a mumbled reply from the floor.

"Are we clear? She repeated and the people responded with an emphatic 'yes, Ana."

"Good. One of the many difficulties of _White Tower_ getting out before it was ready for publication was that there wasn't a clear sense that it was only part of the story. So to redeem ourselves as a company we are going to publish all three parts of my husband's story, under his name and Grey Publishing will not see a cent of any money it generates. All of it will go to fund projects that he chooses. Francesca has already agreed to act as his editor. So I want you to return to your computers or phones or wherever you've stored your copy of _White Tower_ and delete it. Even if nobody else on the planet does, I know that this company is committed to producing the correct version and making sure that people know the whole story, not just the first bit. We will issue a joint statement with GEH later today outlining what we're doing and why we're doing it. But from here on we treat _White Tower_ with the respect and confidentiality that any author's manuscript deserves. That is my position and anyone who doesn't feel that they can agree to that should consider whether it's time that they parted company with Grey Publishing."

Her piece said and her employees chastened, they returned to their desks.

He stood with Ana as she gave her speech four more times to the departments that made up Grey Publishing, finally concluding his time there by meeting Francesca Hardy who would be his editor from now on. The woman spoke in a cultured, mid-Atlantic accent. Ana confided to him shortly after that she was actually born in Des Moines.

He returned to his office, walking into the foyer outside it with Andrea and Olivia already deep in today's workload. He leant over Andrea's desk.

"Senior staff are assembling and your Dad called."

"My Dad? OK, I'll call him now."

His dad was never one for cell phone conversations. Carrick would rather use a proper telephone, not one that he got mixed up with the TV remote control. Elliott have never let him forget the day he tried to get ESPN by aiming his Nokia at the screen.

Christian walked into his pristine office and dropped into his chair.

"Call Dad," he said to his phone system and bringing up his morning report from his section heads he waited for his Dad to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Dad, it's Christian. You OK?"

"Sure, yes."

Getting a call from him at work was unusual, so he couldn't be entirely fine.

"You sure, because calling me at work is rare."

There was a sigh down the line. "It's your mother."

Christian sat up. "What?"

"She's not flown to the symposium in Nebraska today."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the car picked her up at 5am and took her to Sea-Tac and she said her flight was departing at 6.45am. I just went to check that she'd landed OK but the first flight to Omaha isn't until nine fifteen. I tried to call her but her phone's switched off, so I checked her reservation. Christian, it wasn't for Omaha. It was for Vancouver."

"Oh fuck," a heaviness settled on his heart. He looked at the clock. His mother would be there now and no doubt closing in for a showdown with Elena.

"I'm sorry to have you call you," said his Dad, "but you're the one with…"

"I'm on it," said Christian rising from his seat. "I'll let you know when I'm there."

"Do me a favour?"

"Sure," Christian stopped.

"Take Elliot with you."

"Uh… why?"

Down the line Christian could clearly hear his dad's discomfort.

"You and… her. I…" There was a pause. "I just don't want you going alone."

"Dad," Christian said carefully. "This all happened a very long time ago. I don't need protecting from her."

"I know that," he said, still uneasy. "But… just take him, OK? If anything, it will give you an extra pair of hands with your mother. She can be a crafty one."

"OK, I'll collect Elliott and call you when we discover where she is."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Carrick admitted.

"No," Christian sighed. "Only one place she's going to be."


	65. Chapter 65

**A/N**

**Apologies for being extremely tardy with an update. I have secured a book deal in the interim (yay!). I'm going to do my best to complete this story as soon as I can. Anyway, happy New Year and let's catch up with Grace. **

* * *

**CHAPTER 65 **

**Monday**

Grace Trevelyan-Grey took a seat in the main Vancouver branch of Esclava Salons. Now parted from Christian as a business partner, Mrs Elena Lincoln had done extremely well for herself. Like many women in Seattle society, Grace had been a regular user of Esclava's services, even, on occasion, attended to by Elena herself. Not in recent years, though. Not since the night she'd discovered that the woman had seduced her younger son. Grace hadn't mentioned it to many people – just her closest, and most well-connected friend. Therefore, it was not long until the grapevine did its work and Elena Lincoln was no longer welcome at certain parties. Since then, Grace had barely given the woman a thought. But discovering the exact nature of Christian's relationship with her former friend – _since the age of 15_ – had made her lose it for a while. But not now. Today, Grace Trevelyan-Grey was back in full control of her faculties. She had a plan and she was carrying it through. She had selected a random name to book into Esclava as a client and cancelled her Omaha booking in favour of a quick hop north to Vancouver. She could have taken the car, but Carrick was expecting her to go to SeaTac, so to the airport she went. She just hadn't gone to the destination she was supposed to go to. Not that he'd check. Monday was golf day and nothing came between Carrick and 18 holes with his former colleagues.

This branch of Esclava was vast. It was three, perhaps four times bigger than any of the branches in Seattle and even at this early hour on a Monday it was busy with clients. It was decorated in the same white minimalist which had been her signature in Seattle. On one level it was clean and neat and ordered. But on another, it was evidence of the cold heart that Christian had written so brutally about.

There wasn't any woman she knew who didn't have a copy of _White Tower_ and she hadn't been ashamed to admit that she'd read it. Although, at the time she didn't see the parallels with her own son, mostly because he'd never told her about the remembrances that tortured him. Now and again a similarity had set her on edge, but this couldn't possibly be Christian. Would her son, the perpetually single one (so she supposed), ever contemplate life as an older woman's sexual plaything? Common sense told her no and therefore all the uncomfortable feelings of coincidence were batted away and she read on, cheering for him as he discovered self-discipline, started a business and began to create a life where he was the one in charge and emerged from under the dominance of Elena. For all his new-found control of himself and others, she'd ended the book noting the cavernous emptiness in the twenty-one year Stephen White's life. It had order, routine, glamour, punishment and sex, but there was no love in it. He'd embarked on his first relationship with a submissive as if he'd just bought a company. She knew now that it would take until the eve of his 28th birthday until love arrived. She couldn't wait to read about that bit. She knew she'd grin like a lunatic at that. But Grace wasn't sure she wanted to read about the successful but closed-off person that had to wait out those seven years until that beautiful angel dropped into his life.

"May I get you a drink, ma'am?" asked a polite and petite blonde woman, dressed in an immaculate white uniform. "Coffee? Tea? Or perhaps some water?"

"Tea, please. Earl Grey if you have it."

"Of course." Of course Esclava would have Earl Grey.

Grace observed the clientele as she waited. They were all people of a similar situation to herself, mature women with time to invest in themselves. When she'd been working Grace had had precious little of it. Carrick had settled comfortably into retirement whereas Grace wanted to keep her mind active by keeping up with developments in Pediatric research and catching up with the latest 'must read' books. _White Tower_ had come from Mia who had emailed it to her, then called her up and asked her to drop everything and devote the rest of the day to it. For Mia to get that exercised over a book it had to be something special. So, she'd made herself a cup of tea, taken her tablet into the living room, sad down, opened the file and hadn't moved until dawn.

'Mrs Simpson?' Grace didn't at first recognise the pseudonym she'd used to book the appointment here and it took a second or two to determine that the blonde receptionist was referring to her. "Mrs Simpson?"

"Oh! Yes?"

"Mrs Lincoln sends her apologies but she's been delayed on her way in. She asks if wanted to wait, or would like to re-book for another time?"

Grace Trevelyan-Grey had waited years to tell Elena Lincoln what she really thought of her and she could afford to wait just that little bit longer. She smiled at the unsuspecting woman. "Tell Mrs Lincoln that I'll wait for her." Grace smiled as the woman turned back to the desk. "Oh yes, I'll wait for you, Elena,' Grace added in a low mutter, bending forward and picking up another magazine. "I have all the time in the world."

**XXXX**

Elliot Grey remained silent as Christian went through his pre-flight checks and took off from the helipad on tower three of Grey Plaza. Over the course of the last few days he'd come to a fresh understanding of his brother. Exactly why the small, thin boy hadn't spoken for two years had been explained and there was now a burden of guilt in Elliot for the way he'd behaved to Christian as they were growing up. Plunging into the book himself, slightly fearful of what he might find written about himself, he found that Stephen White's brother was portrayed as Elliot would have wanted to be depicted – as a small boy who equally didn't have a clue about how to help Christian. But as the story gathered pace and Stephen White met and developed his relationship with Marlene, Elliot also understood the transformation of the difficult teen into the distant youth. Elliot had felt that during those years Christian had touched base with his family only when necessary. While that was explained by the control that Elena Lincoln had over Christian, that didn't mean that Elliot didn't feel resentment over it. He absolutely did for every one of those days he could have spent enjoying life with the brother he had now, not the iceman that had been in his place back then. Elliot had got to the end of the book angry at the woman and wasn't entirely sure that his father would have asked Elliot to go if he could have seen inside his head. But his anger would in no way matched by the wrath of Grace Trevelyan-Grey and Elliot shifted in his seat. Christian noticed.

"You OK?" he checked. Elliot still found the sound of his brother's voice in the headset a little odd even though he'd flown with him many times.

"Yeah," said Elliot. "Just a little fearful of what we might find up there." Christian didn't reply. "Are Ana and the kids OK?" he continued.

"Mostly," Christian acknowledged.

"And you? Are you OK?"

"Mostly."

"I'm sorry this has happened. It must be…"

"I'm not ashamed, Elliot," Christian said with conviction. "I did what I did through choice. Have you read the book?"

"Yeah," Elliot admitted with an unsteady exhale. His brother's childhood experiences had been an upsetting read. "This weekend."

"Then you know that Elena never forced me to be her sub. She outlined what was required, I chose to accept those terms and I negotiated if I couldn't agree to them. Just as every one of the women I had a relationship with did, too. I made my life work for me until the point when it no longer did. Then I worked to change things. I don't see anything in that to feel ashamed of. But are you ashamed of me?"

"What? No! Some of the things in the book were hard to read, but I'm not ashamed of you."

"Good, because I can't go back and change it. No more than you can go back and change anything you did."

"True," Elliot acknowledged, working his tie loose and undoing his top button. "But at least I don't have to cope with the whole world knowing. Although, in your usual way you seem to be coming out of it smelling of roses."

"No, that's Chanel," he added with a smirk. "There are no roses. There's just a plan to be worked through so that some good can come from this for the people who aren't so fortunate as me."

"Fortunate? I wouldn't call what you went through as a child as fortunate."

"No, but meeting Grace was. Having parents who had the opportunity to get me all the help they could. And most importantly, they never gave up on me, even when I must have been breaking their hearts."

"You were an asshole at times."

Christian smiled. "Read the next book, you'll have a new appreciation of the word."

Elliot chose his words carefully, voicing a deeply-held concern about what lay head in his brother's revelations. "You weren't cruel to any of them, were you?"

"Not intentionally. Not to anyone I had a contract with. The boundaries were clearly drawn and I observed them. But I over-stepped the mark with Ana when we were first together, when my desire to control her and her desire not to be controlled, battled it out. My temporary victory soon rang hollow when I saw how it upset her. Nobody had ever held the mirror that close to me before. That's when I saw that my life didn't work anymore and in order to keep Ana, I knew I had to change."

They were silent for a few minutes as Elliot contemplated the changes that Ana Steele had brought to his brother's life. That gentle softening of hard edges, friendship where there was only civility and spontaneous fun where there had previously been over-arrangement. Elliot found it difficult to understand why Christian had ever let Elena Lincoln take charge of him. That Christian had been in charge of his personal relationships, he could completely understand. But allowing someone else to take control of him – apart from Ana who had the touch of knowing exactly when to rein Christian in – Elliot couldn't get his head around that.

"I don't really understand why you let that woman have so much control over your life. I'm sure you would have been just as successful in business had you simply applied yourself."

Christian gave a chuckle. "Perhaps. Perhaps not."

"What do you think might have happened?"

Christian shook his head. "Thinking about what might have been isn't something I devote time to. And looking at the beautiful wife and children that came out of the way things did happen, I don't care. As for what I got out of it. I got self-discipline and the inbuilt belief that you can't lead until you can successfully follow."

"What?" said Elliot, even more confused.

"Good leadership comes from experiencing it. That's why I promote from within wherever I can and make sure that my best leaders mentor the next generation."

Elliot Grey felt like he'd fallen into a textbook. "So this whole submissive and domination thing is just a sexy front for a management training scheme?" Christian laughed heartily. "It sounds like it," continued Elliot. "So you weren't there for the sex? You were there to learn how to get ahead in business?" Christian still amused didn't reply. He was adjusting their course as they arrived on the outskirts of Vancouver. Elliot noticed his brother's smile fade and it was Christian's turn to seem uncomfortable.

"No, I wasn't there for the sex. Although, I thought I was at the time." Christian banked the helicopter to the left and in the distance Elliot saw the city center helipad that he was aiming for. "Turns out that sex is nothing compared to making love."

"Ain't that the truth."

"I can't believe Mom did this," Christian sighed before he contacted the control tower. Elliot remained silent and still as his brother piloted the helicopter. He was imagining some cat fight of fingernails and leg wax. Actually, he didn't know what his mother would do, she could be unpredictable at the best of times. But she'd exposed hidden reserves of fortitude in the past and if he could, he'd put a bet on her. He knew the warpath he'd be on if anyone ever took advantage of his daughter Ava, and he guessed that his Mom wouldn't be on any less of one now.


	66. Chapter 66

**CHAPTER 66**

The petite blonde receptionist looked up every so often and checked whether 'Mrs Simpson' was still happy to wait for Elena Lincoln. Clients came and went and all the while Grace continued to wait patiently, with never an adverse murmur over Mrs Lincoln's tardiness. Grace would simply add it to the list of the woman's misdemeanors. An unsettling thought went through her mind, wondering if Elena had clocked who the new client was and was deliberately avoiding her so that Grace would give up and go home. "Not a chance," she muttered, reaching for her phone only to be struck by a message from Carrick. He wondered how she was. She opened it, rather shocked. Carrick wondered where the wine delivery was and whether he could get a table at his favourite restaurant. How his wife was barely troubled him. Actually, that was an untrue reflection. Carrick had confidence in his wife's ability to take care of herself, so he simply didn't worry. Although, oddly, today he had. Did he know something? Grace dismissed that thought too. If Carrick had suspected that Grace hadn't gone to Omaha then Mia would have been on the phone by now. Grace had been agitated over the weekend which may have raised his suspicions. However, the two bottles of Italian Bardolino that Grace had plied him with yesterday must surely have soothed the worry out of her darling husband's brain. The receptionist looked up at her with a broad smile.

"Mrs Simpson? Mrs Lincoln is five minutes away."

"Thank you," said Grace, finished her tea and stood up. "I'll make a quick visit to the ladies' room."

**XXXX**

Elena Lincoln was not having a good day. To be honest, the whole weekend had been a write-off and that had contributed to the increasing catastrophe that Monday had become. It had started the previous Friday when nobody in the salon, either her clients or her staff, could talk about anything else other than Christian Grey. His picture was plastered over the front of every newspaper in the city and on every news website that she went to. She'd seen the leaked photograph of his subs, spending a silent few moments noting each one and the life that he'd left behind for a wife and children. She'd rapidly dismissed it, unwilling to return to the part of her life which had finished on such a sour note with Grace. She'd carried on but life hadn't settled back to normal. For days now her staff had been behaving oddly, disappearing off only to be discovered hunched over their tablets reading. Reading! Of all things! She'd even threatened to fire the repeat offenders, but nothing worked. She found them time and again immersed in a book they simply could not put down. _White Tower. _It was all they could damn well talk about.

On Friday she'd discovered what _White Tower_ was about. The event played out in slow motion in her mind, bathed in a strange neon. She saw again the press conference that all her staff had insisted on watching on TV. She stood at the back of her salon trying not to look at Christian on the screen. And then things became hazy. Elena definitely remembered Marnie Moore and after that, there were only three other pieces of information she was sure about. The first was that Christian had written a book about his early life which detailed his time as a woman's sex slave, apparently. The second thing was that it was called _White Tower _and all her staff had read it. Thirdly, her unsuspecting staff had insisted that she spend the weekend reading it herself.

Elena Lincoln was not a reader, if she did read it was for information only. But it did not take long to piece together the words 'Christian Grey', 'life story' and 'dominatrix,' to understand that this was one book that she must read.

So she had.

It had been excruciating – but not in the way she'd anticipated. It had opened with the moment when Christian realised that he was ready to move on from their relationship. She was right there in the first scene, directing him, taking him in, getting what she could from a young man with stamina. To read when and how he'd come to that decision didn't hurt, it was ancient history. So ancient that she couldn't even remember how he'd phrased it. It was the next few chapters that were painful, exposing exactly why the sweaty, tanned and handsome teenage boy she'd kissed that day, had a secret drinking habit, a series of school expulsions to his name and was covered in tiny white marks on his back and chest. Written out in heartbreakingly graphic detail were the series of events that had left him scarred and with a deep fear of touch than no one except Ana Steele had ever managed to get past. Elena Lincoln rarely cried, but tonight she did, reaching for her phone on occasions and nearly giving in to her need to call him, to hear his voice once again and to tell him that she'd read it. She read it in one sitting. As the dawn rose over southern British Columbia Elena Lincoln knew that every single word was true, even if the names had been changed. And secondly, that it could only be a matter of time before the character of Marlene was linked to her. The people involved in the scene had known about them and even with the code of confidentiality, she thought it highly unlikely that they would remain immune in the face of larger and larger offers of money.

Elena was a tough as boots in the face of most things, save one person. If she'd put two and two together then the person most likely to drop on her like a skyscraper was Grace Trevelyan-Grey. The good Doctor was to be avoided at all costs.

Sunday had passed in a blur and Monday had started badly, with soap in her eyes, lost keys and laddered stockings which made her late leaving the house. She hoped that those three things were all her bad luck for the day, but Monday was the gift that kept on giving as the roads were bumper to bumper into the city and she couldn't find a radio station that wasn't talking about Christian Grey. Elena had a new client at 9am and with five miles still to go there was no chance that she'd make it on time. She called ahead and gave her apologies. A flash of blue and white metal in the sky caused her to look up and for one heart-stopping moment she thought she saw the familiar logo of GEH on a helicopter banking around and coming into land. Her foot slipped off the clutch and she lurched to the rear of bright red BMW and into the foul mouth of a man who was having an equally bad Monday morning.

Three quarters of an hour later she finally drew up outside Esclava and climbed out, surveying the damaged bumper that would mean a call to the repair shop. She pushed open the door into the calm, cool oasis of the salon, where Paris Brookes, her receptionist took instant pity on her harried boss.

"Mrs Lincoln, you look exhausted! I'll get you some coffee."

"Thank you. I'm glad to be here." Elena looked over to the waiting area to find her expected client was not there. "Oh, did she leave?"

"No," said Paris, handing her a white bone china cup of coffee. "Mrs Simpson's in the powder room."

"Good," Elena sipped her coffee enjoying the much-needed caffeine. "I need a moment to replenish my serenity and grace."

"Well, there's definitely some grace, here," said a horribly familiar voice. Elena Lincoln turned around to find the very woman she did not wish to see standing right in front of her. "But somehow I don't think this grace is going to be full of serenity, do you?"

Elena placed the coffee on the counter before she dropped it. "How lovely to see you."

Grace ignored the greeting. "I notice you haven't asked what brings me here. Even you can work that out?"

Paris was riveted and in the main body of the salon her other staff members were starting to take notice of the strident-voiced woman.

"Shall we go into my office?" Elena raised her arm.

"Mrs Lincoln?" asked Paris. "What about Mrs Simpson? She's booked in for five treatments with you today."

"What?" Elena started. Paris angled the screen around so that Elena could see that her entire morning had been blocked out by Grace Trevelyan.

"I thought we might need time to discuss things," said Grace, closing in.

"Yes, of course," said Elena, knowing that there was no escape. She'd have to have one of the most difficult conversations of her life. "Come with me," she said quickly, wanting to remove Christian Grey's mother from the vicinity of the rest of her staff as soon as possible.

Paris called after her. "Mrs Lincoln, you forgot your coffee!"

"You drink it," she called. "I'm alert enough," she muttered, leading Grace into her office and shutting the door.

**XXXX**

Grace placed her bag on the sofa, unbuttoned her pale pink coat which she folded and draped over the back of it. Behind the desk, Elena Lincoln looked much as she ever did, dressed in black and with her platinum blonde hair cut into a smart bob and diamond drop jewellery around her neck and adorning her ears.

"I've read the book. I know all about you," said Grace, launching straight in. Elena did not flinch.

"I'm sure you didn't need to come all the way up here to say that." The two women stared at one another. "You're looking well," she continued and Grace gave her credit to trying to keep things civil. But she was way past being civil with Elena. Consensual or not, this woman had repeatedly whipped her son and done all kinds of things that in other people's lives Grace thought were perfectly fine. But not in her precious boy's! He may be over six feet tall and one of the world's most successful businessmen, but Grace could never remove the image of that emaciated little boy who'd come into the emergency room. Even now she still wanted to parry all attackers with a big stick. She swallowed and played at civility.

"Thank you. Retirement suits me. We have lots of lovely grandchildren to keep us on our toes. Of course you'll know that."

"No," said Elena. "I don't spend my life following the Grey family's every move."

"But you must know how many children Christian has?"

"That's different. He's more high profile. Most of the world knows how many children Christian and Ana have."

"You leave her out of this!" hissed Grace.

"I wasn't bringing her into it, I was stating a fact. As clever as Christian is, even he hasn't developed the capability to reproduce on his own."

"Don't get smart with me."

Elena shook her head. "Smart, Dr Trevelyan? Have you forgotten that sexual reproduction is taught in grade school Biology? It was a very long time ago that you graduated, so maybe they didn't teach it when you were at school. Was the earth still flat in those days?"

Grace pursed her lips. "Trust you to bring up sex. Is that all you people think about?"

"Oh, no no," Elena wagged her finger. "You're on quicksand there. If you're going to throw around terms like 'you people' then don't forget that your son is one of us."

"He. Is. Not!"

"The. Hell. He. Was! From the ages of fifteen to twenty-eight," Elena added. "Perhaps even now? Perhaps that cute and cuddly scene he's playing with his wife is a front. You ask him to show you his room. There'll be a locked room somewhere in his house for which only he has the key. Did you ask Ana if she has more than a marriage contract? Come on now, Grace. If you've read the book then you know what I mean."

"Of course I know what you mean! And I want you to know that I am no prude, but fifteen?" she screeched. "_Fifteen, _Elena! What were you thinking? How the hell did you ever think that it was appropriate behaviour?" Grace's voice bounced off the walls.

"Keep your voice down," Elena hissed, leaving over the desk and resting her hands on it. My staff will hear every word!"

"And I suppose you've told them that you're that woman?" Grace continued, mirroring Elena's stance over the desk. "Marlene. The woman who made Christian Grey do…" Grace faltered for a moment.

"Quite delicious things," Elena grinned closing her eyes the second before Grace's right hand connected with Elena's left cheek.

**XXXX**

In the salon Paris Brookes was uncomfortable. She could hear raised voices coming from Mrs Lincoln's office. It had also raised the notice of the stylists and each of them made frequent glances towards the door. Paris tried to distract herself from the argument by searching for more news about Christian Grey. There was none. There were no clients due for another fifteen minutes, so she drew out her tablet, clicked open the file and picked up on her eighth re-read of _White Tower._

It must have been several minutes later when she was aware of two men in suits stood in front of the counter. All was quiet from the office now. She put down her tablet, put a smile on her face, looked at the first man and screamed.

"That's not an effect I've known you have on women before," said the second.

The first man ignored him and smiled at the dumbstruck Paris. "May we see Mrs Lincoln, please?"

"She-she-s in a meeting," Paris stuttered.

"Definitely scared of you," said the blond-haired man.

"I suspect she's meeting our mother," continued the first. "Is she with Grace Trevelyan-Grey?"

"Uh…um…no." At Paris's reply the two men looked shocked.

"Who's she's with?" asked the second man.

"Tell Mrs Lincoln that Christian and Elliot Grey are here. It's urgent." Paris didn't need to know that, she knew who the first man was, she just couldn't scrape her brain cells off the floor to do their job and function.

"Who's she with?" The blonde man repeated, but not before he was interrupted by a crash and a cry of 'You bitch!' from behind the closed door. "That's Mom!" he shouted and bolted for the door, closely followed by Christian. Paris followed. The two men burst into the office to find Mrs Lincoln on the floor and the woman who'd introduced herself as Mrs Simpson sat on top of her smacking Elena about the head with a rolled up copy of American Salon.

At their entrance the woman stopped. Christian Grey turned and glared at Paris.

"Get out!" he shouted, expelling her from the room with a slam of the door that smacked at her heels.

**XXXX**

Elliot helped his mother up and attended to her while Christian ran both his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it's come to this," he said with a voice that left no one in doubt of his displeasure. "Of all the things…" he balled his fists at his side before reaching once again for his hair. Beside Elliot his Mom dropped the magazine onto the desk and smoothed her skirt. Getting up from the floor, Elena Lincoln's face was red and blotchy, but there was no sign of blood. "Of all the things," Christian continued, "that could be shameful, or hurtful, or embarrassing to me, this is worse than any part of my private life being transmitted around the world." There was a moment of silence in which Elena Lincoln said 'sorry' in a way that Elliot did not doubt the sincerity of. The salon owner lifted her hand to her cheek. Christian walked over to his Mom. "Are you hurt?" he asked, his fury barely concealed. Grace shook her head.

"No," she said softly. "I'm sorry you feel upset, Christian, but so do I and I have done ever since I discovered that she had..."

"And I had," he continued. "You seem to assume that this was all one-sided."

"You were a child, Christian!"

"I wasn't incapable of making a decision about whether or not I wanted to have sex! Most fifteen-year-old boys think about sex a lot of the time and given it on a plate they'd take it. Elliot?"

"What? Don't look at me."

"Oh no. I forgot that you didn't slip between the sheets with a woman until your wedding night. While I'm the Whore of Babylon's more promiscuous brother." Elena gave a little laugh and even Grace raised a smile.

She turned to Elliot. "Rosie Parker-Woods in the boathouse. Four weeks before your seventeenth birthday." Elliot Gray looked down at his mother with speechless incredulity.

"How did you..?"

Grace rolled her eyes. "Only an idiot doesn't check who is and who isn't in the house and who might be in the boathouse before he does the deed." It was Christian's turn to grin at this revelation.

"You?" Elliot said in horror.

"No, your father. It was the longest twenty minutes of his life, he said."

"Oh my God," said Elliot and stamped the floor. "Where are the portals of hell when you want them to open up? Mom, you are nearly seventy and you were brawling on the floor. Can you not see what's wrong with this picture? Christian's coping just fine with this, you don't need to rush in like momma bear and fight his battles!"

"I'm doing it because he didn't let me fight his battles when he needed me."

"Mom, you fought plenty of battles. But no one could erase my memories. I just had to build up more and more of the good ones until the bad ones were overwhelmed. My children help me. My wife rides a white horse through them every single day. I didn't have battles that could be fought by one person. They've taken a team effort. You, Dad, me, Elena. Yes, Elena. You can think what you want but she gave me a working structure and that helped me at a time when I couldn't help myself. So, I would be grateful if you would acknowledge, like the strong and wonderful woman you are, that my life has been hellishly complicated, but through a collective effort, I made it. You all got me through and continue you to get me through." Christian took his Grace's hands in his. "Would you be happier if I'd have turned out different?"

"No!" she said holding her hand to his cheek.

"Then please accept that I arrived where I am by unconventional means. Now we'll forget this and go home. Deal?"

"Deal," said his mother.

Christian looked at Elliot. "Twenty minutes? What were you trying to do, pick a lock with a wet fish?"

"Aaaand that's enough," Elliot decided. "Out we go."

Christian didn't move. "I'll be a minute," he said. Elliot understood. Grace approached Elena.

"I'm sorry," she said with honesty. "This isn't the first time someone's struck you over Christian. I was angry because…"

"I know that there's a whole world of 'because.' There's just something about me that seems to bring out the worst in people," Elena admitted sadly. Grace raised her hand and rubbed Elena's shoulder.

"How about you and I start over and catch up. I'm sure we can have a conversation without resorting to violence."

Elena shook her head. "Thank you, Grace, but no. Things end here. My life is in Vancouver now and yours is in Seattle. What's done is done and I'd just like to get on with my life, if I may?"

"I do need to talk to you," said Christian.

Again Elena rebuffed it. "You have my email address, anything you need to say can be said there and you can copy Ana in. Private meetings wouldn't be fair to Ana and I really don't want to be part of the circus any longer."

Elliot got in the back of the car and as his brother drove through the city he let his mind wander back through the pages of Christian's book. Back to the start where the teenage Stephen White is at the mercy of his older brother. A very cock-sure older brother – or at least that was what Christian must have believed at the time. A brother that when it came to the crunch really wasn't as cock-sure as he thought he was and if Rosie Parker-Woods hadn't been more experienced… Elliot grinned and Christian clocked it in the rear view mirror.

"What are you smiling at?"

"More experienced women," he chuckled. "Sometimes they're an absolute godsend."

"Ain't that the truth." said Christian.


	67. Chapter 67

**Chapter 67**

**Monday**

By the time Christian returned to Grey Plaza the working day was almost over and he headed straight for his wife's office. He drew wary looks from the employees of Grey Publishing as he made his way through the editorial floor to Ana's office at the end. She was starting the process of recruiting a new PA, but for now one of her junior editors, Dominic, was filling in.

"You can go in, Mr Grey. She's expecting you."

Christian pushed open Ana's door. She got up and came over to greet him. He kissed her, pulling her close and running his hands down her back and hips. She rested against him, both enjoying the silent embrace.

"You're back a lot later than I thought."

"I had a long talk with Mom."

Ana looked up. "I guess it wasn't about plans for Phoebe's birthday?"

"No," he said moving away from her. He went to the fridge and got a bottle of sparkling water. He opened it and took a sip. When he returned to Ana she'd moved to the couch and he sat beside her and played with the cap.

"I take it that it was about Elena?" she said and he nodded, taking another sip of water. He didn't continue and finally Ana prompted him with a kiss on his cheek. "Tell me," she whispered.

"I didn't really do much talking at first. I think she spent a whole hour trying to piece together when exactly it started, trying to think whether there'd been any warning signs about Elena that she could have been alert to. She blamed herself for agreeing to let me go to Elena's house that day, which of course I corrected her on. I wanted money for booze so I wasn't going to pass up the opportunity to earn some. Listening to her talk about how things were, was odd. She and Elena were really good friends for years before the thing with me ever happened, and their friendship continued right up to my 28th birthday. Nearly twenty years. When she threw her out of the house that night, it really hurt Grace. In an instant she lost one of her best friends and the memories of everything they'd done together were soured. Dad was never interested in going to New York, so when Mom wanted to go she invited Elena." Christian took another sip of water. "The betrayal was hard to deal with, she said."

"I can imagine," Ana edged closer.

He tossed the bottle cap onto the coffee table, sat back and put his arm around her shoulders. "Obviously, she just thought it was a normal sexual relationship – until last Thursday. After discovering that I'd written the book Grace didn't know what to think. That other people do these things, she understands. That it was me and Elena doing them, was tough to come to terms with. She'd have voted me the person least likely to be involved with anything like that. She thought I might have confidence issues around women." Both of them laughed. "You'll laugh even more at this. You remember the first day you met her, when she dropped round to Escala unannounced?"

"Yes?"

"Well she'd decided that I'd been single long enough and that there must be a problem. She was going to take me out to lunch and give me the number of a sex therapist."

"You definitely could have used one back then."

"I had one." Ana pulled back and blinked, not comprehending and for a moment the years melted away and her eyes were the fresh guileless eyes that had seen through him in the first place. He put the water down and turned to her. "You, Ana. You were my sex therapist."

She smiled. "I should have charged. Straightening out such a kinky bastard took years."

"I'm not straight yet, I still have kinks."

"I like those kinks. They're staying."

He took her hand, running his thumb over her wedding ring. "Being married to me hasn't been easy, has it?"

Ana was silent for a moment. "We've had a lot of pressures that other people wouldn't have had. But every couple has their own pressures. You show me an easy marriage."

"Ever the diplomat," he whispered.

"Christian, I wouldn't change you for the world," she replied. "It's just that sometimes, some of the bags we've had to carry have been heavy."

"Especially now. I'm sorry Ana."

"You can't change what's happened. You weren't to know that Scott McDowell would turn into one of the most jealous and vengeful men on the planet. Just as I couldn't have anticipated your book getting out and burning through the internet like wildfire."

"I'm sorry about that too. I'm sorry for writing it."

"Don't be," she said emphatically. "Nothing helped you to make sense of things more than writing it down. The only course of action open to us is how we respond to it. We can't do anything about the first book being out there. But we can make sure that we get the rest of the story out properly. I need people to know that the story doesn't end with you permanently locked in the control freak stage." She placed her hand over his heart. He didn't flinch. "That day your mother interrupted us, you would never have let me do this." She rubbed her hand over the whole of his chest and he closed his eyes at the soothing feeling. "Or this," she said gently. "You've changed so much, Christian." He opened his eyes, caught up her hand in his, brought it to his mouth and kissed it. "We can't let this situation poison us and that's a decision I've had to come to on everything else. Even Elena. Did you manage to talk to her about what we're planning?"

He shook his head. "No. She said anything I need to say to her can be sent by email."

"This is as much her life being exposed as it is yours. I just wanted to know that there wasn't going to be any comeback. I don't want a writ landing on my desk."

"It won't. She won't sue."

Ana sat up and narrowed her eyes. "How do you know?" He raised an eyebrow and eventually, she got it. She gave a laugh. "Even she signed a non-disclosure agreement?"

"Yes. Although, I never did, So I'm free to talk about all of you," he added with a cheeky grin.

"Actually, about that." Ana scratched her nose. It was a sign that something was bothering her. "I've been thinking about book three."

"The one where the saving angel arrives in an ancient light blue beetle?"

"Yes – but it was a red Mercedes. Kate let me borrow her car that day."

"I'd better remember a detail like that."

"Look, Christian. Time is of the essence with this. I think we need to get the whole thing out there as soon as we can and if at all possible, we need to get books two and three at the same time. Obviously, you can't write two books at once, so I wondered what you thought about book three being written by someone else?"

"A ghostwriter?"

"Well… no." There was a moment of silence as she seemed to weight up what she was going to say. "What do you think about book three being the story of how I met you?"

"That's what I intend it to be."

"But for me to write it."

It was Christian's turn to sit up. "You want to write it?"

"Yes. I have all the details on file," she tapped her head giving him a little smile but all the time looking for his reaction to her suggestion. He wasn't going to dismiss it out of hand, but the magnitude of what it represented to him momentarily interfered with his ability to talk. "Christian?" she repeated when he didn't reply. "What do you think?"

He reached for the water bottle again. Taking a sip didn't automatically loosen his tongue. "You want to write about our relationship?" he managed eventually.

"Yes." He thought about the implications. Eventually, Ana slumped against his shoulder. "Come on Christian, Congress doesn't take this long. I'll let you read it."

There were a lot of things about his early relationship with Ana that he wasn't proud of. "Can you leave Jose out?"

"No. He was there for some of it, remember? Can you leave Elena out?"

"No."

"Then we have to include everybody. Names and essential details changed, of course."

"You could do it with a ghostwriter."

"That's for people who don't have the time or the talent. I'm perfectly capable of writing a book."

"I know but… About me."

"Can you think of somebody better qualified?"

"No. it's just…"

"I think we need to see the screwed up mess you were in when I met you."

"I think I can write that."

"Yes, but you didn't know how much your reality was divorced from everyone's else's. That's what I want people to see - how the control had left you with an impenetrable boundary around yourself, and at the same time absolutely no respect for anyone else's."

"And then the story of how you wheedled your way through it."

"There was absolutely no wheedling involved."

"I still don't know how you got in."

"Well maybe you'll find out this way. What do you say, then?"

"Where will it end?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about it, but it will start on the day of that interview."

"Andrea can tell you what you were wearing."

Ana laughed. "She's a freak."

"Said the woman who can remember she was driving a Mercedes."

"It stuck out! I didn't drive one back then. I don't drive one now, so it would still stick out. So can I write the story?"

He smoothed a strand of hair back behind her ear. "Yes."

Ana's eyes bugged. "Is that it? Just yes?"

"Were you expecting something else?"

"Yes! Clauses, contracts or a veto. At the very least a little negotiation."

"I'll even rescind the NDA."

"Woah." She put her hand to his forehead. "Are you sick? Should I call a Doctor, because this isn't like you at all?"

He kissed her. "I'm fine. And it's a yes because I trust you. Now that I think about it, that's how you got in." He took her hand. "If you can't write an honest assessment of me, who can?"

"John Flynn?"

"With his cricket obsession I don't think the Googlies of Christian Grey would be saleable."

"Oh, I don't know. If we take out the second 'g' I could get a handle on them."

Christian chuckled. "Yes, I'd very much like you to get a handle on them. Are you an expert googlie handler?"

She looked him straight in the eye a smirk playing on her lips. "I was taught by the very best." He moved in to kiss her as Ana unzipped his fly. "We aim to please, Mr Grey," she murmured.

"You have always pleased me, Miss Steele."


	68. Chapter 68

**Chapter 68**

**Tuesday**

Olivia Lucas and Andrea Sawyer went about their morning routine in a silence that was punctuated by the occasional ringing of the phone. After the heightened drama of the last few days, normal office protocol was a welcome distraction. It was still early. Mr Grey had arrived at GEH and was on his way up to the floor. Olivia got up to pour the coffee, bringing Andrea's over to her.

"Did you see how strongly GEH traded yesterday?" she said, placing the cup in front of Andrea. "The stock price jump was incredible. No lack of confidence in Christian Grey."

"Yes. It's nice that ne made the news because his business is doing well, although there are those people who think it's all a publicity stunt because GEH is making a play for Markson Industries. A publicity stunt, pur-lease," Andrea derided. "Like anyone would willing lay bare their damaged childhood in advance of a takeover bid. What good is that going to do?"

"The Markson documents came in overnight." Olivia returned to her desk.

"Finally," said Andrea, taking a sip of coffee. "He's already messaged me about them once this morning. Leaves us next to no time for us to turn around the packs for the meeting. Do you think we could rope Sabrina in again? We could use a few hours' extra help." Olivia grimaced. "I know it means that we have to cope with the whole lovesick puppy routine, but it's either Sabrina and her silent adoration of Mr Grey, or Reanne who never shuts up about clothes. Personally, I don't give a fuck what the new black is, I just want to get on with my job."

"And when she asked Mr Grey where he shopped!" Olivia burst out laughing.

"Shopping?" Andrea mimicked pretending to be Christian not understanding the concept. "I do not know this shopping of which you speak. My suits and shirts arrive from London at the start of each season. Shopping – tsk! As if he has interest in that."

"Unless it's for the children," added Olivia.

"Oh God…" his Executive Assistant laughed as the elevator doors opened. "He's such a kid!"

"Who's a kid?" said Christian, striding towards the desk, briefcase in hand.

"You. Whenever you go shopping for your kids. It's hard to know who you're really shopping for - you, or them."

"Them, obviously," he lied with amusement and turned to Olivia. "Get Detective Marsh on the line, please. I want an update on McDermott."

"Yes sir."

"Andrea, could I have a word?" She followed him into his office and he asked her to close the door which put her on immediate alert. The scent of furniture polish hung in the air and a large glass vase refracted the morning sun scattering a rainbow of colours across the white walls. "Sit down," he said, gesturing to the seat in front of his desk. He dropped into his and turned away taking a look at the skyline of a city embarking on another working day. Andrea sat patiently, the second hand on her wristwatch made a full circuit before he turned back to her. "I've been thinking," he said, all previous humour gone. "It won't be just my family who will be affected by my plans to publish my story. GEH will too." In her head the blood started to pump and in her chest her heartbeat gave a stutter. "I want you to know that I'm thinking of handing over the day-to-day running to someone else."

"You're leaving?" Andrea's voice barely made it out of her mouth.

He smiled wryly. "No such luck. Well, not if I can help it. Although, when people here read the next installment, they might not be so willing to keep me on. The might see me as a liability."

"Can it be that bad?"

"I don't know, Andrea. You have a better idea than most people. What's your reaction to having a boss with a personal life like the one I had before I met Ana?"

"Isn't your answer in the stock prices yesterday?"

"It's good to know that investors still have confidence in GEH, but what about my employees? How do they feel about me?"

Andrea took a moment to compose her thoughts. "I don't know what you were expecting to happen in the wake of this, but really, I think you must have a very different image of yourself than we have. Anybody who's worked here a long time – and some of them have been with you from the start – think of Luke's PA, Marie Osborne - would hand on heart put you down as one of the most inspirational people in business."

Christian shuddered. "Thank you for a mental image of the scariest woman on the planet. I bet she wouldn't refrain from telling me what she thought of me."

"You may be surprised to hear what she thinks, now that she knows so much more about you." said Andrea. "Ask her about the book."

Christian looked alarmed. "She's read it?"

Andrea rolled her eyes. "What part of 'we've all read it,' don't you get?"

"Careful, Mrs Sawyer."

"Sorry for the sass."

"It wasn't the sass." She looked at him, not understanding.

"Nevermind," he added.

"What?"

He snickered. "You'll see." His frustrating silence about what he'd picked up on annoyed her.

"Gah! How does Ana put up with you?"

"A question I ask myself on a daily basis. But you're telling me that my employees don't mind that their CEO was a woman's submissive? Or are worried that I went on the spend a good many years as a Dominant."

"As far as I or anyone else could see, you showed up to work every day and did your job to the best of your ability. Sorry, if you're looking for someone to say that your work was sloppy and compromised because you were distracted by a woman you'd left tied to a chair. I don't think you're going to find anyone here who'd fault your commitment. Certainly not me. You very rarely put a foot wrong."

He raised an eyebrow. "Rarely? You mean there were times when I did?" There was a trace of a smile behind his words. "It's OK. I know there were times when I got it wrong, but those times weren't anything to do with being distracted by women."

"You didn't get distracted until Ana arrived on the scene."

"Very true. She just has to breathe and I'm distracted."

"But please tell me you're not leaving. This is your company. I know it's an unwieldy multi-national beast these days, but it would n't be the same if you were to leave."

"I hope I don't need to leave, but who can say. The first bit of scandal these days and people are out the door in an instant."

"GEH doesn't work without you."

"Yes it does, Andrea. It works just fine."

"No it doesn't." she insisted. You can't leave, Christian. You're its spirit."

He took in a breath and blew it out in a long, measured way. "I'm not planning to leave, but I have been thinking about becoming Chairman and letting Tom Clarke take over as CEO. I discussed it with Ana last night. What do you think?"

"It's really something you need to discuss with your board. What does Ana think?"

Christian sighed. "She said exactly the same thing."

"She's a businesswoman, I'd listen to her."

"But as an employee, what's your opinion. If I gave over the day to day running to Tom, would that be a good thing?"

Andrea was silent for the longest time, carefully weighing up her answer. "I think Chairman is what you become when you're older and looking to ease back. If I'm honest, I think you'll get bored and start poking your nose into things."

Christian laughed. "Like what?"

"Like… I don't know. Deciding that team building activities are a good idea and sending us to Idaho for a long weekend of survival skills and misery."

"We already have a team building program, although I've never really used it. People here seem to work well together."

"That's because we don't need a weekend away from work to build employee cohesion, we get that Monday through Friday. You're the cohesion. You're the reason we get on well. Ever stopped and thought that the Man of Steel years laid down the template for the hard work and doing your absolute best? People want to emulate that. That's what I mean, you're the spirit of GEH. You disappear from that day-to-day demonstration of what GEH is and even with our stock at record prices, we'll start to lose what makes GEH special. I think Ana told you to speak to your board because she knows that if they're clued in to how people work around here, then they'll know that shunting you upstairs where you'll get bored and start re-arranging the plants, will likely end up with the rest of us doing the same."

"So, I can never leave?"

"No. And when you die we'll have you stuffed, fitted with animatronics and programmed to roam the hallways."

Christian angled his head. "There are some days when I worry about your sanity, Mrs Sawyer."

"So do I. Now, are there any more stupid things I can talk you out of doing?"

Christian smiled. "That's all for now."

"I'll bring you some coffee." Andrea set off for the door.

"Andrea?" She turned back and as his phone rang he placed his hand on it. "Find Tom, please."

She was dismayed. "You're not serious? You _cannot_ be serious! No! You leave us and GEH will fall apart!"

He was slightly taken aback and lifted up his tablet. "It's eight minutes past. He's supposed to be here."

"Oh, yes…" said Andrea, scurrying her retreat as Mr Grey picked up the phone. She returned to her desk and her expression drew concern from Olivia.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," she replied and took a large mouthful of cooled coffee.

"Looks to me like you've had some bad news."

"Uh… no," Andrea replied, annoyed that Olivia was Miss Super-Observant. She picked up her phone and punched the number for Tom Clarke's PA. Just then the elevator disgorged GEH's second in command who looked disheveled and exhausted. This wasn't the first time that Andrea had seen him like this and as he hurried to make his late meeting she shook her head and clicked her disapproval under her teeth. "Rule 101," she said _sotto voce _as Mr Grey's door closed. "Never let your sex life interfere with your work. Which is why you will never be good enough to be this company's CEO."

"Agreed," Olivia sighed. "Tom's nice, but he's no Mr Grey. Tom doesn't inspire me work better."

"Exactly!" said Andrea. "Chairman, my ass," muttered Andrea under her breath. "I'll be the one tying you to a chair."

It was later in the day when the news filtered out that Scott McDermott and Petra Huntley had been charged with the kidnapping of Darcey Grey. Sloan Sharp was charged with being McDermott's accomplice. As Andrea left for the day, with Luke and their son Charlie who'd they'd collected from the crèche, reporters were even skulking around in the parking garage, waiting for a comment from either Christian or Ana Grey. They pressed in on the Sawyer family but Luke firmly rebuffed them. Hanging around was futile. Firstly, because any statement wouldn't come from the Grey's directly, but also because the reporters had missed them. The couple had left a half hour ago, walking straight out through the front entrance and heading for a private dinner with friends.

"Christian never does what you think he'll do," said Andrea, as she settled into the passenger seat. Luke started the car.

"No he doesn't, which means that you always have to factor that in when you're planning his security."

"I take it they've got new people in place for the children?"

"Yes."

Andrea thought about GEH without Christian Grey. They would still be a huge corporation, doing everything they were doing now and bringing more companies into the fold; but without their charismatic CEO at the helm it would be a less interesting place to work. There was something about Christian Grey that was fire and spark and brought GEH to life. Without him, it would be nothing more than a regular company. Working for GEH was akin to working for Christian Grey himself. He _was _the company and Andrea dismissed his talk of taking a back seat, pretty convinced that Christian couldn't cope with someone else taking the reins.

"You're quiet this evening," said Luke as they stopped at an intersection.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"GEH without Christian Grey.

Her husband frowned. "Did you hear it too?"

"What?" she said turning her head to him.

"The rumours of a plot to oust him."

"What?" Andrea scoffed. "Get rid of Christian from GEH? Are they crazy? Did they see how much GEH stock closed up last night?"

"I know. But that's what I heard on the grapevine today."

"From where?"

"From Marie. She brought it straight to me."

Andrea turned to her husband. "Who did she hear it from?"

"Someone who really shouldn't have had the face to have been within a mile of Grey Plaza after you took him down on the radio."

Andrea blinked. "Amos King?"

"Yup."

She sat back and laughed. "He's a fly on a windshield."

"He's got Davies and McInerney."

"What the…?!" Have you told Christian?"

"I have no evidence. All this is hearsay right now."

"You've got to tell Christian!"

"Not yet."

"Now!"

"Not yet! I need them to give me something I can produce as evidence, Andie." Andrea pulled out her phone and selected Christian Grey's cell phone number. "No!" said Luke grabbing it from her and tossing it onto the back seat.

"Hey!"

"You can't say anything to him, Andrea. I know the concept of collecting evidence is slightly inconvenient to you before you prosecute someone, but it's the law! I can't go to Christian Grey and tell him that three members of the GEH board are plotting against him, but I have no evidence. He will laugh in my face!"

"You should still warn him."

"Hello?" In the back seat Charlie Sawyer had his Mommy's phone at his ear.

In the front Andrea and Luke Sawyer sat in stony silence until the lights changed to green.

"Look, I know you're incredibly loyal to Christian, but you can't go steaming in to protect him like some avenging angel. If we screw this up then Davies, McInerney and King will sue the pants of GEH and perhaps me, personally. I promise you that as soon as I have any evidence I'll present it to him."

"Christian," said Charlie and held out the phone.

"Yes baby boy," said Andrea, smiling at him.

"And you can't behave differently around them. If they know you're onto them, Andie, they'll clam up. You need to be as nice as pie."

"Pie…" Andrea mused.

"Oh no. I've seen _The Help_ too, remember."

"Spoil sport."

"Mommy, Christian." Charlie tried again, holding the phone out. Andrea played along and took it from him, putting the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Christian," she said brightly.

"Good evening Mrs Sawyer. What an enlightening conversation."

"Mr Grey!"

"Fuck," muttered Luke. He pulled over and took his wife's phone.

* * *

**An author's note:**

A chapter of around 2000 words takes me about 3 hours to write, which by my reckoning means that I have already invested around 237 hours of my time writing this story and over the ten stories I've written for Twilight and FSOG, that's over 1100 hours since I joined Fanfiction in 2011.

Many of you have been kind enough to leave a review and I don't mind in the least that you don't like the direction that a story is going in. A few have said that reading my work has been a colossal waste of their time. Divide the 237 for Gray Hearts by 100 and that will be the length of time you've probably wasted. 2-3 hours. May I remind you of a wonderful feature on FanFiction called 'reading something else.' Nobody is forcing you to read this crap and nobody is making you pay for it, so go and find the person who writes the stories you want to read.

There are also a few who have reduced the guest review to no more than a series of derogatory personal comments. That must have been such fun, thinking of fifty ways to insult me. I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted.

Thank you to all those who continue to offer constructive criticism.


	69. Chapter 69

**A/N: **

**If you've read all my FanFiction, then it's time to catch up with old friends...**

* * *

**CHAPTER 69**

It was just before nine when Luke Sawyer arrived at the Grey's mansion, only minutes before Christian and Ana arrived back from dinner. Standing in the hallway, Luke thought it still a little odd to see Kennedy in the driver's seat and for it to not be him or Taylor. But times move on. Jason wanted to spend more time with Gail; and Luke, in the aftermath of getting caught up in the London bombing, had to accept that his body was no longer able to work at the same intensity. Being a desk-bound Head of Security for GEH was at least still using his skills. Not that he didn't still work out as often as he could. Keeping himself as fit was important to him.

Ana headed upstairs to where Luke could hear sounds of children. Darcey was singing at the top of her voice, while at the top of the stairs Phoebe waited for her Mom with a face that said that she didn't like her sister's singing. Luke silently followed Christian through the house to his office.

"Drink?" said Christian, grabbing a bottle of Macallan, a Scottish single malt.

Luke shook his head. "No, sir." Christian poured himself a small amount. "Whisky isn't something I've seen you drink before."

"No, that's true," Christian smiled. "It's only a recent thing. I think it must be a sign that I'm getting older. Although I'm particular about what I have. Some of Islay malts taste like antiseptic," he shuddered, "But this is a Speyside malt and they're very different." Christian took a sip and then walked over to his desk, sitting on the edge of it. He was still in his dark blue suit, his top button open and his tie a little further down. He some ways he was very much the Christian Grey of yore, but where there was once a steely imperiosity about him, these days he was a more mature and reflective man. Not that he didn't act when he needed to. "Tonight's been a very interesting evening," he said, putting the glass down on his desk. He gestured to Luke to sit down and he did so, taking a seat on the sofa opposite his employer.

"Before I discuss King and his cronies, I want you to do a little digging on someone for me." Luke sat up and Christian took another sip of his drink. "We were with the Tomlinson's tonight. Can't say that it was all that exciting apart from a cursory comment that Sam made. His IT is being overhauled by Elba Systems. I don't know whether his wife knows it but he and Elba's CEO Esther Weisberger are spending way too much time together." Christian waved his head. "That's irrelevant, but it got me thinking. You know what happened to Elba's previous CEO, Helen Mitchell?"

"Yes. I believe she was killed in the San Francisco earthquake a couple of years ago."

"Yes and the company passed to her daughter, Maddie. I remember meeting Helen a few times. Even when I was at my most controlling, she made me look cute and fluffy," Christian smiled. "The thing is, Maddie just disappeared. She's the owner of a really lucrative slice of the IT industry but where did that kid go? It's like she vanished. I asked Sam about her and he looked at me blankly as if he didn't know who I was talking about. I googled Maddie but there's absolutely nothing about her. When you click the links they're dead or a dead end. Like someone has systematically been erasing all mention of her. Last I heard was that she'd moved to Alaska, but she must be at least twenty-one by now."

Luke frowned. "And you want me to just find out where she is?"

There was a twinkle in Christian Grey's eye. "Oh this isn't fatherly concern. I want Elba Systems and I want to know if she'll sell it to me. The company's getting some nice contracts and it will dovetail nicely with what we do at GEH. But it looks like the biggest issue is getting hold of Maddie Mitchell. She's turned into quite the enigma. One thing I did find out is that she has a place on the board of CEE Inc. I've never heard of the company, but their interests are varied and lucrative. Equally, I've never heard of any of their directors." Christian pulled out his phone and read down a list. "Carlisle Cullen, Edward Cullen, Daniel Mitchell – wonder if he's any relation to Maddie? I'll send you the details then you can follow it up. If nothing else they might know how to get hold of her."

"Consider it done. And your more pressing problem?"

Christian sighed and rubbed his left temple. "King, Davies and McInerney? Tell me what Marie Osborne heard. More to the point, what were they doing discussing things like that anywhere where Marie Osborne would go?"

"They had decided that the company archives were the best place to hold a meeting."

"The archives? Of all the exclusive private clubs or dark dingy alleyways they could have met up in, they choose the archives? So we're not dealing with criminal masterminds here?"

"No, but we're dealing with three men with strong opinions who influence a lot of people and from what Marie told me, King is unhappy with your morality and they agree with him."

"My morality? And this from Amos King?"

"Yes, Marie did say she could see the word hypocrite flashing above his head in red neon."

"So, according to him it's OK to fuck your way around the women of the western world from the safety of a marriage in name only, but not OK to do what I did? Didn't Andrea tell him this?"

"On the radio, yes. I didn't tell Andie this evening, but he's out for her too."

"For telling the world about him?"

"Yes."

"Figures."

"They are going to insinuate that she must have known about your activities and colluded with you to cover it up."

"Colluded," Christian repeated the word. "Away from the office my entire life was in lockdown and only the very closest knew the truth and she wasn't one of them. She did what I asked her to do, she didn't ask unnecessary questions and I liked that. But it didn't take her long to piece it together once she had a few piece of the puzzle. Sawyer, your wife is smart, brilliant at her job and funny. I feel that I've missed out on so much only getting to know that side of her more recently. But you tell her to resist any pressure that comes. As for the unholy trinity on the GEH board, I'm going to put my faith in something she said earlier today and hope that Andrea's got a better understanding of GEH than they do."

"If you're referring to the GEH staff viewing you as the soul and spirit of GEH, then she's right. You see it on every floor. Where it's come from isn't something that you're going to want to delve into too deeply, but I assure you, it's a force that Davies, King and McInerney probably have no idea exists."

"Do you think anyone else on the board thinks like this?"

"No. I think the rest of them have been at GEH long enough to understand where the worker's loyalties lie. Davies and McInerney's personal lives will not stand up to scrutiny if I accidentally make their files available. Both of them have taken mistresses in the past."

Christian gave a wry smile. "I'm curious. What could you find out about me if I were someone GEH was looking to hire?"

"Taylor and later myself looked after your business and personal reputation magnificently. I could present you with the file and all but the last few days would make for a quick read."

"So there really was nothing out there?"

"Up until the point Scott McDowell posted what he did, there was nothing other than your business interests and essential family details. Before Ana arrived your life was an extremely dull read."

Christian raised his eyebrows. "Well, now everyone knows that it wasn't true."

"If I may speak candidly, sir. That goodwill present in your staff seems to extend out into the city. If your book is a true account of what happened and so many people have read it, then my wife was right to ask the people who could understand the journey you'd been on and show their support with hearts on their windows. You turned a bad situation around. Albeit unconventionally."

"Yes, _I_ turned it around, he stressed. I don't want people getting the impression that Elena Lincoln made me. I made myself. Giving me the money to get started is one thing, but GEH only thrived because I put virtually every hour of my day into it. I put fewer hours in now because my life's changed and I have family responsibilities. But I still put everything I can into it."

"And that's why you will ride this and King, Davies and McInerny will find themselves frozen out. What do they put in? Very little compared to you."

"I don't want to ride it; I want them out. I heard you telling Andrea that you need evidence, so this is me telling you to go and collect it. But one thing I want to know, is could they persuade Tom Clarke to stand with them?"

Jason shook his head. "No, and by the way…"

"If it's about Stella, I know," said Christian, quickly. "We had a discussion about his tardiness and appearance this morning. He assures me it won't happen again." He blew out a breath. "Keeping my office and my personal affairs so far apart that they were almost in different universes was the key for me." He gave a little laugh. "I knew I was in trouble the moment I suggested that Ana become an intern at GEH." He shook his head. "What the fuck was I thinking? My perfect control was reduced to a pile of useless pieces thanks to her." He fixed Sawyer with a look that meant business. "Get the evidence of what they're discussing and find me Maddie Mitchell, Luke. I want to buy her company."

"Yes sir."

Luke Sawyer took his leave and made his way to the door, meeting Ana coming downstairs with a bright-eyed Darcey wrapped around her. The little girl was showing no sign of sleep.

"Apparently Daddy reads stories better than I do." Ana had a slightly deflated look that he recognised when you're trying to do a thing and the other parent is preferred. Luke caught the title of what Christian Grey's reading matter would be. _The Princess and the Pea._ He'd read it to Emma years ago.

"That's a good one," he commented to Darcey and she gave him a sweet smile before burying her face into Ana's hair.

As he settled into his car Luke felt a lightness about him. Even thought he was no longer in shape enough to hurl himself in the path of a bullet for his employer, he could still be of use to Christian Grey. Andrea was exactly right about the personal loyalty the man could command. Regardless of what had happened to him and the revelations over what he'd done in private, he led GEH with charisma and competence. This was no cult of personality. Christian Grey was never one for flattering press releases, photo ops or other things to bolster his ego. The respect came from his work ethic, his commitment to ethical business dealings, to fair wages and his investment in his staff, which meant that wherever possible they promoted from within. Against that, Davies, King and McInerny had no chance. He drove back home contemplating his other assignment, to find Maddie Mitchell. The thought of her raised hairs on the back of his neck and he felt suddenly cold. For her to be as elusive as Christian Grey, she too must be harboring a secret.


	70. Chapter 70

**A Long Author's Note...**

The character of Maddie Mitchell is someone who appeared in my _Twilight _FanFiction series – specifically Part 5 _Dark Star_ where she sets out to discover what happened to her father. Few of you have read what I did with _Twilight_ as there are no more than a handful of reviews for each piece; but it was the first thing I wrote and part of me will always love it, because it helped me to overcome my fear of allowing people to read my work.

By bringing Maddie into _Gray Hearts for Mr Grey_, I'm doing several things: Firstly, I loved writing Maddie and this is my chance to give her the resolution that I set out for her to have. Secondly, it's a little bit of a 'swansong' chapter for me. This will be my last FanFiction story so it's my chance to have a little fun for myself. Thirdly, as FSOG started out as _Twilight_ FanFiction, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to write something that contained my own versions of both Edward Cullen and Christian Grey.

Think of it as a standalone story within _Gray Hearts_ and if _Twilight's_ not your thing, you can skip this chapter without compromising anything in the conclusion. So first, a little context. Who is Maddie Mitchell and why's she in this story?

**Previously…**

In _Aurora,_ (my very first FanFiction), Nessie Cullen, (Edward and Bella's) daughter feels trapped by her life and runs away to San Francisco, where she's hunted down by one of the city's vampires - Daniel. Realising that he doesn't have a regular human on his hands brings her to the coven's leader. The leader, wanting to ingratiate himself with the Volturi invites Aro to view the curiosity. Aro of course knows what and more importantly _who_ the San Francisco coven have on their hands and sets out to exact his revenge on the Cullen family for the Volturi's routing in _Breaking Dawn_ by planting memories in Nessie's head that will torture Edward and force the little family apart. The Cullens mount a rescue, aided by Daniel and as a thank you, and knowing the pain that separation from his own young daughter, Maddie, is causing him, Edward takes Daniel away from the SF coven, adopts him as his own son and shows him their way of being a 'vegetarian' vampire in the hope that it might enable the two to be reunited at some point in the future.

Years later in the story _Aurora: Dark Star_, Maddie, now seventeen, sets out to discover what happened to Daniel. Aro too has plans, setting up a network of centers in cities around the world, offering hope to those who fall on hard times. In reality it's a front for harvesting humans for food and Maddie's Mom, a prominent SF businesswoman is unwittingly persuaded to invest in the new San Francisco center. Again Aro is trying to get at the Cullens by exploiting the link between Maddie and Daniel, who is now part of the Cullen family. Realising the threat to the daughter of one of their own, the Cullens move to bring her into their fold and Alice and Jasper make contact, laying out a trail for Maddie to find her father, by giving her the contact details for Edward Cullen. Edward provides that final bridge to reunite Daniel with his daughter. When a massive earthquake hits San Francisco, in which her mother is killed, Maddie leaves the city to live with Daniel and his new family in Alaska, where she develops a relationship with another half-vampire, Ben. On her mother's death, Maddie has become the owner of Elba Systems and now several years on it's Elba that Christian Grey wants to buy. For Maddie, the Seattle businessman's interest has come at a crossroads in her life.

* * *

**Chapter 70**

It was two days into his investigations into the whereabouts of Maddie Mitchell that Luke Sawyer knew that someone was investigating him right back. There were strange unregistered IP addresses in the internet logs, there was someone in the corner of his eye who vanished as soon as he turned his head and there was a coldness that had settled over Luke like a blanket of ice. Apart from the IP addresses nothing else was tangible, but decades in the security business had honed his senses. Even if he couldn't really point and name it, his gut was certain there was something, or someone there. That Maddie Mitchell was still in Alaska, he couldn't be sure. Luke had picked her up in graduation announcements from her High School, and her attendance at a society function soon after, but since then there'd been no mention of her. Christian was right, there was nothing and even with Luke's knowledge of the all the little backways that he could get information, he had still drawn a blank and that had piqued his interest all the more.

Elba was managed by Esther Weisberger and Luke hadn't done more than a few minutes digging when he'd confirmed that she and Sam Tomlinson were exchanging more than business phone calls. But he wasn't interested in Sam or Esther, it was Esther's boss who was proving elusive beyond even his considerable power. To clear his frustration, Luke took a walk, heading out of Grey Plaza and into the city on an overcast May day. It was approaching lunchtime and he stopped to pick up a sandwich, heading to a café seating area on 4th where he could eat and also chew over his thoughts of what to try next. His back was aching and the minor spat that he and Andie had had this morning still played on his mind. Being a cool day few people were using the seating, save for a pale, copper-haired teen at the next table who fixed Luke with a dark look. Sawyer looked around, perhaps someone else had annoyed the guy, but there was no-one in his line of sight, except Luke. He found it difficult to imagine what he'd done to prompt such a glare.

"Have I done something wrong?" asked Sawyer, when the guy continued to stare at him.

"Not yet," the youth replied, "but there's still time."

Luke couldn't help but laugh. "Excuse me?"

The boy got up from his seat and deposited himself at Luke's table bringing with him a stronger sense of the cold unease which had dogged Sawyer for last couple of days. He continued to stare at Luke and the security man was unnerved by the sight of the boy's golden-colored irises. "Your name is Luke Sawyer and you are Head of Security at GEH, having previously worked for Christian Grey as one of his personal bodyguards." The guy spoke in a rapid, low tones. "Your back hurts, the argument you had with your wife this morning still worries you, you've drawn a blank on finding Maddie Mitchell and I'm here to see what we can do about that."

Luke was stunned and couldn't reply as he processed the information that both anybody could discover and then again, could only have discovered if they'd been inside his head. "Edward Cullen," the boy continued as he extended a gloved hand.

Luke frowned, but shook it. Edward Cullen was one of the names of the Directors of CEE Inc, but no way could it be that person. He'd been on the board since its founding in 1964. Perhaps it was his grandson?

"No, not his grandson," Edward replied with a slight smile. "I'm the same Edward Cullen."

"What the actual fuck?" The words did not leave Luke's mouth but hung in his mind prompting the smile on Edward's face to widen.

"It's a long story," he supplied. "And if Christian Grey wants to buy Elba Systems, it's a story he's going to have to know." Edward rose from his seat. "Tell Christian Grey that if he wants to talk to Maddie about Elba, then we will email him a set of co-ordinates and he can meet myself, Maddie and her father at six this evening. He flies a helicopter, so its remoteness won't present a problem." Edward swung his backpack onto his shoulder. "And he has to come alone. We share our story with only a select few and you will not be one of those people. For your safety, just as much as ours. Good day Mr Sawyer, enjoy your lunch."

Edward Cullen stalked away the air strangely warming as he left. Luke remained stunned but his head presented him with one very important fact. Maddie Mitchell's father was dead.

Edward Cullen turned around. "Technically," he called back and carried on walking. Sawyer's hunger deserted him and so, a little unsteadily, he got to his feet and headed back to the office.

He walked out of the elevator onto the 30th floor. His wife was on the phone, but as he reached her she held out her hand and he grasped it, reassuring him that she was no longer mad at him. She waved him through to Christian's office but he hesitated in the doorway, knocking gently as the CEO worked at his desk. Christian looked up.

"Luke? You have something for me?"

"Yes sir," said Sawyer, closing the door behind him. "Although it's not what I was expecting to give you."

"Have you found Maddie?"

"No, but she seems to have found us. Or rather, her people have."

"Her people?"

Luke sad down in a chair opposite his boss. "I've been doing the standard searches for her over the last couple of days and like you discovered that there's nothing. Even using the channels that you can't access, there's still nothing about her. There's been some unusual Internet activity in the logs and just now, while I was out getting lunch, I was approached by Edward Cullen. Or at least someone who claimed to be Edward Cullen."

"Edward Cullen? That's one of the…"

"Yes. The Directors of CEE that Maddie also has a seat on the board of. Although this guy didn't look like he'd finished High School."

"So, what did he say? Will she talk to me?"

"Well, here's the thing. They're sending you a set of co-ordinates to meet them at, at six tonight."

There was a dull ping from Christian's computer and he glanced at the screen. "Seems he already has." Christian opened the email. "That's it, just co-ordinates?"

"He said as you have a helicopter, its remoteness won't present you with a problem."

Christian opened another browser window and keyed in the numbers. "It's on the Olympic Peninsula. In the National Park." He raised an eyebrow. "It's in the middle of fucking nowhere, according to this."

"And you have to go on your own," said Sawyer. "They only share their story with a select few and I'm not one of them."

"Their story?"

Sawyer shook his head. "It's weird. He picked things out of my head, like he knew exactly what I was thinking."

"And what were you thinking?"

"Uh, just insignificant stuff. My back was hurting and… I was little preoccupied by a fight Andie and I had this morning. Sir, if you'll forgive me, I don't recommend that you pursue this. There are too many things that alarm me. Daniel Mitchell, her father, will be there. He died years ago, but Edward Cullen said he was only _technically_ dead. I really don't think you should go."

Christian grinned. "I really think I should. I want to know what's going on."

"Sir, I do not recommend it. At least re-negotiate and meet somewhere more public."

"Sawyer, if Maddie Mitchell wasn't in the least bit interested about selling Elba, then we wouldn't be having this conversation. The fact that she's dispatched her people tells me that all we need to discuss is the price. Someone who keeps this low-a profile does not give co-ordinates unless she really wants to talk." He tapped the keyboard. "I've replied and said I'll be there."

"Sir, again, I do not recommend it. At least tell us where you'll be."

Christian got up. "No. My secrets are circulating the planet and I don't want anyone else to feel that level of personal intrusion. If they have secrets to keep, then I'll keep them."

**XXXX**

The three of them stood in the corner of a meadow as the first hints of dusk were gathering in the east.

"I can hear the helicopter," said Edward. Beside him stood Daniel and in front of them, radiating far more excitement than either of them wanted her to, stood Maddie. He could read her thoughts and if Daniel had his ability her father would not be a happy man. Maddie was playing with the crystal star pendant around her neck. It was hollow and the cavity was filled by a shot of vampire venom that every day brought Maddie closer to using. The last five years had been a battle to keep her human and today they were in more danger than ever of losing that battle. If Maddie sold Elba to Christian Grey then nothing would stand in her way of achieving her desire to take her place as the Cullen family's latest vampire. As much as they tried to persuade her that it was better to remain as she was, she was not having it. Her desire to be with Ben may be strong, but she was only 22…

Twenty-two was the stick that she hit back at them with. She was twenty-three next birthday and Ben was fixed at a permanent eighteen. The gap was widening and causing Maddie increasing distress. Daniel wanted Maddie to keep her options open, hoping that his daughter would fall in love with a nice human guy and do all the things humans do in creating the next generation. But Maddie was not interested in being a mother, all she wanted was to spend eternity with Ben and selling Elba would cut the last tie to her human life.

"I don't want you throwing Elba at him," Daniel said suddenly, reacting to his daughter's palpable excitement. She turned to him.

"He's the right man, so this is a done deal as far as I'm concerned."

"That may be so," cautioned Edward. "There is, however, the more important matter that meeting us exposes him to dangers that we may be incapable of protecting him from."

"I really don't think the Volturi are going to be interested in Christian Grey," said Maddie.

"You know nothing of them," continued Edward.

"They don't have Demetri as a tracker anymore, he's on our side. He's cool."

Years ago Edward had known another side to Demetri and the tendrils of the Cullen family's influence had drawn in its fair share of refugees from the Volturi. Who could have predicted that even the feared Jane would have made the break from the Volturi's clutches? Even Alice hadn't seen that one coming. Like Demetri, Jane had found herself woven into the tapestry of the Cullen family. "True, Edward sighed. "But it doesn't mean to say that they don't have a replacement. Christian Grey will have to take great care to keep our secret."

"I think he's demonstrated that he can," said Maddie.

They had all followed the unfolding revelations over Christian Grey's private life, acknowledging that he'd been forced into revealing something that he didn't want to. But yet he'd demonstrated resilience by pressing on and not adding fuel to the fire. Someone had exposed him, he couldn't take that away, but what he could do was refuse to give in to the press's salacious gossip.

The blue and white helicopter came into view and they watched as it was brought expertly into land in the center of the meadow. When the rotors stopped, Christian Grey climbed out and walked across to them. Maddie stepped forward to meet him.

"Mr Grey, thank you for coming. It's lovely to meet you."

"And you, Miss Mitchell." He shook her hand, glancing first at Daniel and then at Edward. Edward picked up the man's thoughts. They were already a riot of questions. Grey had done his homework. He knew Daniel should not be here. But here he was and they needed to explain it.

Edward led the way through the trees to a cabin a short distance away. When they were first married, he and Bella had shared this place with Renesmee. Now it was seldom used, but remained in the family. It was sufficiently out of the way for few people to discover it. With Grey and Maddie furnished with coffee and a platter of food, the group sat down in the small living room.

"Are you having anything?" asked Christian.

Edward smiled. "No. We've eaten."

"Don't ask what, though" said Maddie, receiving a glower from her father.

"Maddie," Daniel snapped a warning, but this only inflamed the woman's irritation.

"Do we have to do this?" she griped. "Does he have to confront you with the truth before you admit to him what you both are? Can we just move straight to agreeing this damned deal then I can get on with the rest of my life?" Maddie stared at Daniel. "It's my company Dad. I can sell it to whomever I want."

There was an awkward silence for those without Edward's abilities, but their thoughts were not silent and Edward could already detect Christian Grey was asking more questions of the two men. Grey was intelligent and observant and it would not be good to leave the man hanging on.

"Would I be able to talk to Mr Grey alone, please?"

"Sure," said Daniel, getting to his feet immediately.

"Thank you," said Edward. "I don't think this will take too long." Daniel and Maddie stepped out of the little cottage and Edward left it a while as the sound of Maddie's unhappy mental grumbling receded. Christian Grey was sat back on the sofa, but while his body may give the appearance of a man at ease, his thoughts betrayed him. "What do you see, Mr Grey?"

"I see a young man, barely out of High School, if that. But I think it's clear, from our investigations into Miss Mitchell, and this evening, that your appearance is deceptive. I'm going to make a guess that you're considerably older that you appear to be."

"Correct," Edward said simply.

"And you're human?"

"Not any longer," said Edward with a slight shake of his head.

"So, Maddie's comment about not asking you what you ate, suggests that it's not something I'm going to like the answer to." The correct answer appeared in Christian Grey's thoughts, so Edward did not prompt him further, but merely waited until the word came out of Grey's mouth. There wasn't any merit in breaking with tradition. The human had to be the one to say the word. "Before I voice my suspicion, I would like to know if I'm safe?" Pictures of Grey's wife and children passed through his mind and Edward warmed to a man whose first priority was to people and not to his business empire. Edward leaned forward. "I may ask the same question of you, Mr Grey. Am I safe? I too have a wife and family to think of." The surprising intrusion into his unvoiced thoughts caused Grey's heartbeat to stutter.

"I will keep your secret," he said softly.

"Then, proceed," said Edward, settling back into his chair.

Grey said nothing for a moment and then swallowing, voiced something else. "I think you can read my thoughts."

"I can. Call me a stickler for tradition, but I need to hear you voice your accusation."

"You want me to accuse you of being a vampire?"

"Yes."

"Are you a vampire, Mr Cullen?"

"No, no, no. I can wriggle out of that one. You need to tell me what I am."

Grey's heartbeat increased further, although his exterior was doing an astonishing job of presenting the man as calm. This was phenomenal self-control. But Edward was alert to things other humans were not. He noted the change in Grey's breathing, heart rate, perspiration and skin color. He could even smell the release of cortisol, the indicator of stress. By all measures this could be classed as a stressful situation. Grey cleared his throat.

"You're a vampire, Mr Cullen."

Edward nodded slowly. "Indeed. And now you find yourself across a line which brings with it responsibilities and danger. Consider yourself honour bound to keep our secret and also, in our own particular version of a witness protection program."

"I'm sorry, I…"

Edward raised a hand. "In return for you keeping our secret, we will protect you from those who believe that humans who know of our existence should die."

"How will that work?"

"I will send my sister, Alice to visit you. Meeting you will enable her to be aware of any decisions that are made by people who wish to cause you harm."

"I could have done with meeting her a few weeks back."

Edward nodded gently and smiled. "I understand that. But, as you are particularly high profile and you are looking to incorporate Elba Systems into GEH, I'm going to suggest that we do more. That we have someone on the ground to look after you more personally."

"A-A vampire?"

"No," Edward said with a laugh. "Well, not exactly. She's a hybrid. Half vampire, half human."

There was uncertainty in Grey's voice. "Exactly how will she look after me?"

"I suggest you keep it simple and give her a job, preferably close at hand. A personal assistant, perhaps?"

"I already have two."

"Then get a third. My daughter and her husband want to return to this area and you giving her a job would enable us to keep you safe. There will be extra work involved for your senior staff in your acquisition of Elba, so this is filling a position which will occur naturally."

"My acquisition of Elba? You mean that Maddie will sell it to me?"

Edward closed and opened his eyes slowly. "She is determined to jettison every last piece of her human life and embrace the future as a vampire. Her father has tried to talk her out of it, but she is not for changing her mind. Daniel…"

"Is obviously not dead?"

"No. He got dragged into the vampire underworld in San Francisco. I liberated him and over time we managed to reconcile the two of them. Becoming a vampire isn't fun, you know. You can't go back to your family and pretend like nothing happened. Many fall into an existence of bloodthirsty misery. We have decided that there is more to life than that and prefer to live a different way."

"I must admit, sitting in this quaint little cottage, that it doesn't strike me as the lair of a vampire."

"My lair," said Edward with a smile, looking around at the pictures on the walls, the books on the shelves and the smatterings of human normality.

"So how do you do this?"

"It's a very long story, and perhaps now is not the time to tell it. Suffice to say that we live quiet lives and contribute to society however we can."

"How many of you are there?"

"Over thirty. We're not a family that expands through procreation. Only a few of us have managed that rare blessing. We expand through like-mindedness. We commit to a set of values and provide a sense of security for those who have found themselves cast adrift in this world. Daniel, was one. Maddie is another." Edward rose to his feet and Christian mirrored him. "We have a task ahead of us to get Maddie through the transition and the successful sale of Elba is the first thing. She's right that she could have sold it to anyone, but we let her know that you were looking for her and she jumped at the opportunity. With you we know it's in safe hands."

"Thank you."

"It's been good to meet you. Daniel and Maddie will oversee the sale. I won't be present. People get a little unsettled by a 17-year-old handling multi-million dollar deals."

"And your daughter? When should I expect her?"

"Advertise your position, and she'll apply. She'll naturally present herself as the right candidate and your Executive Assistant will choose her."

"How will that happen?"

"Ness just has the knack of making herself popular."

"And is she like you? You say she has a husband. So is she older than you?"

"She's full-grown. She doesn't age, which means that she can't stay with you forever. She'll present as an eighteen-year-old fresh out of High School. But in reality she's Mom to four children."

"What?"

Edward produced a picture of his four Grandchildren, pointing at each in turn. "Sarah, William, EJ and Izzy."

"They looks so human," Christian whispered.

"They do, but they're… weird," laughed Edward.

Christian Grey laughed too. "I have four children as well."

"I know. Teddy, Phoebe, Darcey and William." Edward sensed Grey's heartbeat stutter again. "Don't worry. I'll have Alice meet them and we'll look after them."

"And my wife?"

"And your wife too."

"Thank you."

Edward smiled at the businessman's relief. "I'll get Daniel and Maddie back and you can talk terms. For now, goodbye, Mr Grey." Edward held out his hand and Christian grasped it. Edward noted the businessman's thoughts as he experienced cold, hard, vampire skin for the first time.

Edward walked away from the cottage as Daniel and Maddie settled down to discuss business. He took the opportunity to run and made it within minutes across the park and into the outskirts of Forks. It had been many years since they'd been here and much had changed. Much had also stayed the same and not enough time had passed to enable them to start over in this area. The light was fading and crossing the road, Edward headed down to La Push, to see if he could get a few minutes with Billy Black. His time was drawing to an end and Ness and Jake wanted to move back to be close when… This was the hardest part. Not everyone in their family could live forever.

**XXXX**

When Christian arrived home the children had long been asleep and he found Ana curled up on the sofa half paying attention to a movie.

"Hey," she said rising to greet him. "You look tired and pale. Long day huh?"

"Yes," he whispered, unable to tell her exactly why he was feeling a little peaky. The night had been full of revelation and there was a lot to process. The purchase of Elba would be a coup, but his world view had been significantly expanded and not in an altogether triumphant way. Vampires like Edward Cullen he could cope with. The kind that might be out to get him was like a bucket of ice water to his soul. And there were vampires in Seattle, he knew that now. He held Ana tightly. There were far worse things in the world than dented reputations and stupid asshole guys who couldn't keep their jealousy under control. He'd already texted Andrea to prepare a job advertisement, because the sooner Ness Cullen could start at GEH, the easier he'd rest.


	71. Chapter 71

**Chapter 71**

**Saturday**

Since meeting Edward Cullen, Christian Grey had barely slept. His mind could not reconcile the traditional ideas of vampires, as red-eyed, violent and bloodthirsty, with the image that Edward presented, of a calm, assured and smartly-attired young man with strange gold eyes. Nor did it match the mild father-daughter squabbling that had gone on between Daniel Mitchell and his daughter, Maddie. While his experience of vampires was not threatening, his head over-rode it with tradition and three times this week he'd awoken from nightmares. He'd tried everything to exhaust himself so he could get a full night's sleep; working late and spending longer the gym. But the game had been up last night when Ana could not cope with his need to exhaust himself with her and she pushed him off.

"Christian, what's the matter?" She pushed herself a little more upright, looking down at her husband who was lying on his back, breathing heavily. A sheen of sweat clung to his skin and his hair was plastered to his head at the temples. Pounding her hard was a giveaway. She knew something was bothering him. But this time, he absolutely could not confide in her what it was.

"Bad week," he panted. "Sorry." He stroked Ana's thigh. He hadn't come and he didn't think he would, tonight. His head would not allow him to give himself over to love without tossing in an image of some red-eyed fiend sinking its teeth into his wife's slender neck. In his worst nightmare he had been her assailant. She reached for him, but she would need to perform a miracle to coax him to life again. He was physically exhausted but he couldn't turn off his damned thoughts. Every time he closed his eyes vampires haunted him and no amount of happy vampire families could dispel the traditional view. Ana caressed him, running her hands over his abdomen and between his legs, cupping and stroking him, something that usually had him ready for action. But not tonight. He was utterly spent.

"Why don't you go sailing tomorrow?" she said. "Get a change of scene? We could meet you at SP's later in the day. Darcey's picked up the pace for ice cream again and it would be a little more of treat to get it there. Text Mac and see if he's around."

"It's late."

Ana smiled. "Like that's ever stopped you. Go on, Christian. You really could do with some fresh air. You look like someone drained the blood out of you."

"Don't say that," he snapped.

"Christian, what is the matter?" Ana asked firmly. He shook his head, it had been a stupid thing to say. Sensing that she wasn't going to be able to work a miracle on his groin, she moved her hand upwards, stroking his chest gently. "Did your last physical reveal something you're worried about?"

"No, no, I'm fine."

"Is everything OK at the office?"

"As well as it ever can be."

"I thought you'd be cock-a-hoop over the Elba deal."

"Yeah, so did I," he sighed.

"You check things out so thoroughly before you make an offer. Have you uncovered something that sours the deal?"

"No, the deal's great, Elba's a fine purchase. It's just…" his mind filled in the rest of his sentence but he didn't voice it. It just brought him into contact with something that was scaring the shit out of him and he couldn't undo it. He stilled Ana's hand by placing his own over it.

"Your heart's racing. Are you sure you're OK?" He smiled but that seemed to cause her more alarm. "Your eyes are so bloodshot. Christian, you look exhausted!"

He needed to stop her talking about blood and eyes. "Yes, I am tired. Perhaps we should sleep."

"But you've not..."

He gestured to his exhausted manhood. "I'm finished for the night."

Ana threw the covers over them both and reached over to turn out the bedside light. In the darkness as Ana snuggled up beside him and her breathing began to drift into sleep, Christian lay staring at the darkness above. Sailing would be good tomorrow, but on his own. He really didn't want Mac along with him, just the opportunity to spend time with his thoughts and to put things into context.

**XXXX**

Christian arrived at the marina early. Ana would meet him at SP's at four that afternoon, which gave him a good chunk of time to take The Grace out into the Puget Sound. There were a good number of people about at this hour. It was overcast and windy but there was little threat of rain, so many were making the most of the fine day. As he reached The Grace's berth someone was waiting for him and his heartbeat picked up again when he realised who it was.

"Good morning, Mr Grey."

"Mr Cullen, It's good to see you."

Edward extended his hand and Christian shook it, marveling in the way his ingrained civility over-rode the screaming warning in his head.

"Your mind isn't exactly in agreement with that."

Christian glanced about to see who else might have noticed him talking to a vampire. Nobody. Everybody else was going about their business.

"Mr Grey," said Edward, reclaiming Christian's attention. "I'm aware just now much disquiet my revelation has caused you."

"Have you been at my house?"

"I haven't been listening at your bedroom window if that's what you're fearful of. Now that I've met you I can pick out your thoughts from a couple of miles away and I've been in the city all week, checking whether our revelation causes you to act in a way that would bring harm to my family."

"I gave you my word that I would keep your secret."

"I know. But I am concerned about the cost to you, personally. So I thought that a day's sailing might be as good a time as any to tell you a little more about us, in the hope that it eases your anxiety."

Christian's response was almost a whisper. "Forgive me for being so blunt, but why would I choose to maroon myself on a boat with a… someone like you, with no means of escape?"

"Because if you don't understand us, then you'll spend the rest of your life in this state of anxiety and that's not good for you, your family, or your business. Believe it or not, Mr Grey, I'm not here to have you for lunch, I'm here to reassure you."

Christian saw that he would at least have the opportunity to ask a few more questions and he invited the vampire aboard. Edward immediately surprised him by sharing all the procedures to get the boat ready to take out.

"You sail?"

"Occasionally, yes. Although it's been a while. 40 years, or so." Edward returned Christian's surprise with sheepish shrug. "My concept of 'a while' is something you'll have to get used to, Mr Grey."

"40 years since you last did this and you still remember what to do?"

"I never forget," said Edward. "It's one of the downsides of being what I am."

"There are downsides to immortality?"

"Many, but let's get out of earshot of the rest of the world before I tell you about them."

Christian eased The Grace out of her berth and the pair headed out into the Sound. Christian kept one eye on the horizon and the other on the strange sight of a vampire coiling the boat's mooring ropes. When he was done, Edward joined him at the wheel. It was probably time to get the obvious question out of the way.

"I'm not lunch then?"

"All being well, no," said Edward, not doing anything to dispel one iota of Christian's worry. He sat down on the seat beside him. "I hunted last night. Over there, actually." The vampire pointed to the mountains of the Olympic National Park across the sound. "A couple of deer and an elk. I can see that surprises you," said Edward, responding matter-of-factly to the thought in Christian's head. "It's the main thing that differentiates us from traditional vampires. We drink animal blood, Mr Grey. It's a choice that we make because we want to live with humans not use them as a food source. But that doesn't mean I'm entirely safe. The thirst for human blood is always there, we just work hard to suppress it."

"Is that why your eyes aren't red?"

"Yes. As newborns our eyes are the scarlet of traditional vampires, but a year consuming animal blood cools them to gold."

"Newborns?"

"Let me take the wheel. I don't want you getting distracted whist I tell you my story. Christian Grey sinking his yacht in the Puget Sound would attract headlines I could do without."

Christian swapped places with Edward, settling himself on the vacated seat and noticing that the leather hadn't been warmed. The part of his brain that warned him of danger had given up now, overwhelmed by more than it could cope with.

"Vampires are created when a human is bitten by one. It sounds simple, but in reality it can take all the strength we possess just to release ourselves from what we want most in the world. Human blood. I was seventeen and in a Chicago hospital when it happened. All hope for my survival had gone until one of the doctors bit me."

"Excuse me?"

Edward smiled. "My story isn't where it starts. Carlisle is where it starts.

"The city in England?"

"No, although England is where he's from. Carlisle Cullen was a preacher's son from London. He was bitten but he fought the natural urges that a newborn vampire has and managed to train himself to drink only animal blood. Over the next two hundred and fifty years or so, not only did he establish that, he realised that it enabled him to do things that humans take for granted. He got a job, he started to study medicine, he could earn money to get a place to live, to buy clothes and do his best to blend in and be useful. Not many approved of his choice, thinking it was an abomination. That view still exists today."

"Being useful is an abomination?"

"To some, yes. It undermines everything a vampire is supposed to be. But Carlisle took one look at that and decided he didn't want it. He found his own way and those of us who align ourselves with Carlisle's way call ourselves the Cullen family, because that's what we are. We're not a coven, we're a family."

"And you became one of these animal-blood-drinking vampires?"

"Eventually, yes, although I fought it for a while. One of the hard things to deal with is loneliness. Carlisle created me to both save me and to have at least one person whom he could be real around. After me there were a few more. Esme, his wife, Rose and Emmett, he also created. Alice and Jasper came to us from the southern states."

"Where did you live?"

"Here and there. When you become a vampire your aging stops, so you can't stay in a place too long because you never look any older. The place we've come back to the most, though, is Forks."

Christian pointed to the peninsula. "That Forks?"

"That's the one. I suppose if anywhere's home, that's it. We have friends there and more importantly to me, I met my wife – at the High School of all things. Later, our daughter was born there."

"Born as in bitten?"

"No, Bella gave birth to Nessie. Carlisle thought he knew everything there was to know about being a vampire, until I got my wife pregnant. That was a game changer, in more ways than one."

"So, humans and vampires can inter-breed?"

"Technically, although it doesn't happen often. The risk to the human mother is great indeed. I nearly lost Bella in the process and for her to survive I had to change her into a vampire. But, since then, we've sort of become experts at it and three more hybrids have been born to our family. It's thrown us into conflict with traditionalists, but eternity can be an extremely lonely place and we don't believe it has to be like that. We believe that we can co-exist with humanity, but humanity isn't ready to integrate us yet and won't be a for long while. Not until it's first worked out how to integrate all the variations of its own species. Humans are not great with differences. You know this from personal experience, Mr Grey."

"True."

"And in that you must stand firm. You're doing a great thing by using your story to help people who are not as fortunate as you were. Your former life has raised all sorts of questions in the media as people trip over themselves to condemn you or support you. Believe me, seeing inside the minds of some of your harshest critics would an eye-opener. I believe the phrase is 'there, for the grace of God, go I'."

"It's hard when it's someone in your community who exposes you," said Christian, voicing a vulnerability that he'd only previously shared with his wife. There seemed little point in keeping secrets from a man who could read his mind. "Somebody who wasn't part of the BDSM scene and who didn't understand the way that it works and the safeguards that we put in place, I can kind of understand them running to the press with my story. On the surface it looks so wonderful. But for it to have been someone within the scene, who stands to be exposed himself; that, I just don't understand."

"I haven't been near enough to him to pick out his thoughts, but I will, if you'd like? If it would help you to come to terms with what happened?" Edward turned the yacht gently to starboard, taking The Grace out into the northern sections of the Puget. "Yes, you're right, it did all seem wonderful, to have a succession of pretty women," he continued. "I take it that it wasn't?"

"I think vampires and I have one thing in common. Loneliness," said Christian. "Anything that I wasn't in control of didn't feature in my life. You can't control love and so, I had nothing to do with it. And then Ana showed up and…oh God," Christian laughed. "The woman was a control-freak's nightmare. And as for personal safety…"

"Oh, now you're talking," said Edward, joining in with amusement. "Did you get the feeling that Ana was doing it deliberately?"

"Yes! And it was so maddening at first, because she couldn't see what I was reacting to. She wasn't aware of the danger around her. She was so young and so…"

"Unspoilt?"

"Yes. Nothing bad had ever happened to Ana. She'd grown up a million miles away from my experience."

"Bella was always in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I just wanted to protect Ana. I didn't want to lose the only woman I'd been able to love."

Edward frowned. "Your head is like looking in a mirror. You and I have much in common."

"I have things in common with a vampire? Who knew."

"You'd be surprised."

It was when he asked Edward to stop calling him Mr Grey and use his first name that Christian understood that he was starting to like the guy. Bonding over initially exasperating relationships with their wives had established a shared experience. Fatherhood too, provided more opportunity to build up a friendship when they both could swap stories of being given the run-around at bath time by a small, smart-mouthed little girl.

When they finally turned and headed back to the marina, Christian found that his anxiety levels had dropped and that there was a lot to like about Edward and very little to fear. Apart from _that, _Christian noted, when a tangled line was untangled in less than a second and all he saw of it was a blur. OK, so there were freaky bits about Edward, but that was outweighed by the impression that he was doing his best to fit in, to contribute and to look after his family. Christian Grey couldn't argue with that.

But he wanted to argue when Edward suggested letting King, Davies and McInerney go ahead with their plans to oust him from GEH.

"Let them do it," said Edward.

"What? Deliberately expose myself to that risk? Has Alice seen my future?"

"No, but believe me, you won't have to do a thing. Just let this play out."

"But I'm putting my head on the block."

"There's nothing like a good old-fashioned case of brinkmanship to clear the air. Trust me."

Christian narrowed his eyes. "That's my line."

"I think it was mine before yours," Edward grinned.

They arrived back in the Marina and with Christian taking the wheel the two of them worked together to bring The Grace in and secure her back in her berth. Above them the cloud was breaking up and his glances at the sky indicated that Edward wasn't too happy about this.

"Is everything OK?" asked Christian.

"There's one thing about me that that would scatter everyone for miles around. Perhaps one day I'll let you see it, but I'd rather I didn't get revealed right now."

"May I ask what it is?"

"My skin in sunlight. It's kind of a dead giveaway that I'm not human."

"And your eyes aren't?"

"People tend to ignore those as just a quirk. But they wouldn't ignore this."

They walked down to SP's and Christian noticed Ana's car parked close to his in the lot.

"Alice is already there. She met your family in the city today. My sister really couldn't pass up an opportunity to shop for new clothes." Edward rolled his eyes.

Christian opened the door and immediately saw Darcey sitting at a table and scooping ice-cream into her mouth. There had been at least three colours in the dish, but most of it had mixed together to create a pale brown gloop. This didn't deter her enthusiasm in the slightest. Next to her, Phoebe was reading and Teddy was assembling something. At the far end of the long table Ana was deep in conversation with an unfamiliar pixie-haired girl who was bouncing William on her lap.

"Hmm," said Edward as he saw the sight.

"What?"

"Your son."

"Teddy?"

"No, William. He has no fear of Alice."

"That's Alice?" said Christian in a whisper. He couldn't believe that Ana was so willingly talking to her.

"Yes. More interestingly, is that he gets it from your wife. She doesn't either."

"She doesn't feel the fear I did when I first met you?"

"No."

"Daddy!" Darcey called, her face smeared with ice cream. She looked at Edward and started.

"Darcey's reaction's good," said Edward gently. She fears me. They're sitting at the end of the table because they're feeling the same about Alice."

Darcey stayed right where she was. She usually made a bee-line for Christian.

"But Ana and William don't?"

"No. Go to Darcey, she's starting to panic."

Christian strode over to his little girl, smiling broadly at her. With her Daddy clear of the scary man, Darcey made to get off her chair, but Christian made it to her in time, kissing her and smoothing her hair asking her to tell him which flavors she had in her dish. He glanced at Ana. Edward was introducing himself. Alice looked at Christian, giving a small nod of greeting. Christian focused on Ana. There was no paleness in her cheeks or unease with Edward. Getting up from the table, Alice and Edward came over and under his hand, which was cupping Darcey's shoulder, he could feel her tense up.

"You have delightful children, Mr Grey." Alice's voice was girlish and high. "It's an honor to meet you. I'm Alice, by the way." She extended a gloved hand, but she too had gold eyes. "Your wife and I share a love of French couture." Ana came over, greeting Christian with a kiss as Edward and Alice left SP's.

"You look much happier," she said, staring into his eyes. In her arms William seemed unfazed by the departing vampires. "I hope you had a chance to work things out?"

"Yes, I did. Thanks for letting me do that." Some reservations remained, but Edward Cullen had gone a long way to diffusing Christian's anxiety. "And Alice, how did you meet her?"

"Oh, Darcey knocked something off a stand in Nordstrom. Alice managed to catch it before it smashed to the floor."

"You don't think she looks a little…odd?"

Ana shook her head. "No, why?"

Christian circled his eye with a finger. "Didn't you notice the gold eyes."

"Oh they're just contacts. It's the fashion now, apparently."

"Really?" said Christian. As much as he liked Edward Cullen, he hoped that it wasn't a fashion he saw too much of.


	72. Chapter 72

**CHAPTER 72  
**

Andrea had fixed Christian with a glower. "I really don't see why you need a third PA. Olivia and I can handle things just fine." His strange insistence that he suddenly needed a third person had taken her a little by surprise. He'd leaned across the desk, all three-day-stubble, smart suit and fresh cologne.

"It's nothing personal. Markson Industries and Elba Systems represent another big expansion for GEH and I need your expertise on that. I thought you might like to offload my schedule?"

"I did it with Venture Senkang and that was way bigger than Markson and Elba put together. I don't think we need someone else."

"I think we do. And it represents a great opportunity to bring in someone new. Someone fresh out of High School, perhaps?"

Andrea had tried not to let her irritation show. "Are you sure that's wise?" she'd cautioned. "Wouldn't you like someone with a little experience? Someone who doesn't answer the phone with 'yo bro?'"

"I'm sure you can teach them all they need to know," he'd said with another wicked smile before departing downtown for a meeting.

That had been three weeks ago. He'd been insistent that he wanted someone fresh from High School and also, that he didn't want anything to do with the recruitment. He left it to Andrea and Olivia, asking only that they picked the best person. Even when they had offered the job and it had been accepted by the successful candidate, Christian didn't want to know about the woman who would be joining their team. But, finally, this morning, he'd asked.

"Vanessa is arriving at nine," said Andrea.

"Vanessa…?"

"Black."

"Vanessa Black." Repeating her name he seemed to lose himself for a moment before striding into his office leaving Olivia with raised eyebrows.

"He's acting weird again," she said.

Andrea nodded. "Weird is the word. I have never experienced him be so hands off over an appointment. It's almost as if he wants to be seen to be impartial."

"Yes," Olivia replied getting up from her seat. "And I have a feeling that there's something we're missing."

"How do you mean? Vanessa was the clear choice by a mile."

"Oh, I'm not disputing that. It's just that… I don't know," she faltered. "There's just something about this whole thing that doesn't add up. I mean, why expand the team and why now? Markson and Elba hardly represent a merger of Venture Senkang's size. Why did he specifically ask for someone fresh out of school? That's not his style at all. He doesn't like training people."

Andrea wagged her finger. "Uh uh, he does like training people."

"Oh well," Olivia scratched her neck. "Not in an office environment, I mean. And you have to admit that the interview with Vanessa was… freaky. I swear she was giving out something that was messing with my head."

"I didn't notice that, but she didn't seem fresh out of High School to me. Not many eighteen year olds read Ulysses and have an interest in the sixteenth century architecture of Volterra."

"Where did she say that was, again?"

"Italy. Apparently, her grandfather's an expert… or something." Andrea checked her watch. "It's nearly nine, she's be here soon."

When the elevator doors opened Andrea understood what Olivia meant. There was something that Vanessa Black was giving off, or at least something that was drawing Andrea to her. It felt like magnetism. They went through the introductions and Andrea knocked on Christian's door to show Vanessa through to meet her new boss. Christian was oddly guarded and Olivia was right again. There was something about this situation that they were not privy to. As Andrea closed the door she quickly looked between Christian and Vanessa. The girl was attractive and young with long, copper-coloured hair which… Andrea stopped her thoughts and quickly turned back. Olivia pulled her away from the door.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' she hissed.

"What?" said Andrea, genuinely baffled.

"Her hair! Vanessa's hair!" she pulled at her own. "It's identical in colour to his!"

Andrea blinked. "I guess it…"

"Is that his daughter?" Olivia's wild-eyed whisper tumbled out almost too quickly for Andrea to understand. "Is that what we're missing - that we've chosen his daughter?"

Andrea pulled away, shaking her head. "No. Surely not. He doesn't have a..." Andrea braced her arm against her desk looking back at Olivia. "No. He would have mentioned that."

"But how many people have that exact colour hair?"

Andrea bit her lip. She could definitely sense it now. It was as if all the pieces of the Universe had aligned themselves for Vanessa's appointment. But there was absolutely no way that on top of everything that Christian Grey's life had thrown at them so far, it was going to add an eighteen-year-old daughter that he'd forgotten to tell them about.

Christian's door opened and the two women found themselves looking into the eyes of a man who was not amused.

"Do you think I can't hear you? You think she's my daughter, Olivia? Have you lost your mind?"

"I'm sorry Mr Grey."

"I have never met Miss Black before this moment, so I would be grateful if you would keep your ridiculous speculation to yourself! Do something useful and finalize the details for New York!" Christian slammed the door leaving Andrea and Olivia staring at wood.

Olivia pointed at the door. "That room is sound-proofed. How the fuck did he hear me whispering?" She stalked back behind her desk and dropped onto her chair. "There is definitely something weird going on."

**xXXx**

Amos King had waited a long time for Christian Grey to be away so that he could call the meeting. His window of opportunity was Grey going to New York to close the Markson Industries deal. King could see it on the guy's schedule but every time it got close the trip shifted out by a couple more days. It had happened three times and it was as if the asshole knew what King was planning. Finally the date had remained stable and they had decided to call the meeting tomorrow.

In the weeks since the disclosure of Grey's former life, there had been article after article in support of him. Journalists praised his stance of measured calm in the face of his whole life being laid bare for the world to see. Grey was held up as a hero and King was pissed. Where was justice? Where was decency? Would nobody think of the children? Worse, there was absolutely no reduction in the company share price. It went up and held steady in the days following and the revelations made not one iota of difference to guy's influence. He'd got Markson for peanuts and had even claimed Elba Systems when nobody had had so much as had an email from Maddie Mitchell in years.

The outpouring of respect and understanding for Grey was eating King like a cancer. He had been led to believe that Grey was whiter than white, when in reality he was up to his neck in more debauchery than King could fantasize about. Amos King wanted to remind people that in America there were standards and men who engaged in such deviant lifestyles had no place at helm of multinational companies.

There would be reckoning and it would be tomorrow.

**A/N: A short chapter just to indicate that I'm alive, I haven't forgotten you and I am going to complete the story. Apologies for being AWOL for months, but life is a tough mistress at times. **


End file.
